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richincolor · 4 years ago

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New Releases for the Week of May 3, 2021

It's great to see so many new books hitting the shelves this week. I know I've been waiting for several of these and am happy to be able to finally read them.

The Ones We’re Meant to Find by Joan He Roaring Brook

Cee has been trapped on an abandoned island for three years without any recollection of how she arrived, or memories from her life prior. All she knows is that somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, she has a sister named Kay. Determined to find her, Cee devotes her days to building a boat from junk parts scavenged inland, doing everything in her power to survive until the day she gets off the island and reunites with her sister.

In a world apart, 16-year-old STEM prodigy Kasey Mizuhara is also living a life of isolation. The eco-city she calls home is one of eight levitating around the world, built for people who protected the planet―and now need protecting from it. With natural disasters on the rise due to climate change, eco-cities provide clean air, water, and shelter. Their residents, in exchange, must spend at least a third of their time in stasis pods, conducting business virtually whenever possible to reduce their environmental footprint. While Kasey, an introvert and loner, doesn’t mind the lifestyle, her sister Celia hated it. Popular and lovable, Celia much preferred the outside world. But no one could have predicted that Celia would take a boat out to sea, never to return.

Now it’s been three months since Celia’s disappearance, and Kasey has given up hope. Logic says that her sister must be dead. But as the public decries her stance, she starts to second guess herself and decides to retrace Celia’s last steps. Where they’ll lead her, she does not know. Her sister was full of secrets. But Kasey has a secret of her own. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee Quill Tree Books

Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe.

When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page.

In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

They Better Call Me Sugar: My Journey from the Hood to the Hardwood by Sugar Rodgers Black Sheep

Growing up in dire poverty in Suffolk, Virginia, Sugar (born Ta’Shauna) Rodgers never imagined that she would become an all-star player in the WNBA (Women’s National Basketball Association). Both of her siblings were in and out of prison throughout much of her childhood and shootings in her neighborhood were commonplace. For Sugar this was just a fact of life.

While academics wasn’t a high priority for Sugar and many of her friends, athletics always played a prominent role. She mastered her three-point shot on a net her brother put up just outside their home, eventually becoming so good that she could hustle local drug dealers out of money in one-on-one contests.

With the love and support of her family and friends, Sugar’s performance on her high school basketball team led to her recruitment by the Georgetown Hoyas, and her eventual draft into the WNBA in 2013 by the Minnesota Lynx (who won the WNBA Finals in Sugar’s first year). The first of her family to attend college, Sugar speaks of her struggles both academically and as an athlete with raw honesty.

Sugar’s road to a successful career as a professional basketball player is fraught with sadness and death–including her mother’s death when she’s fourteen, which leaves Sugar essentially homeless. Throughout it all, Sugar clings to basketball as a way to keep herself focused and sane.

And now Sugar shares her story as a message of hope and inspiration for young girls and boys everywhere, but especially those growing up in economically challenging conditions. Never sugarcoating her life experiences, she delivers a powerful message of discipline, perseverance, and always believing in oneself. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry by Joya Goffney HarperTeen

Quinn keeps lists of everything—from the days she’s ugly cried, to “Things That I Would Never Admit Out Loud,” to all the boys she’d like to kiss. Her lists keep her sane. By writing her fears on paper, she never has to face them in real life. That is, until her journal goes missing…

An anonymous account posts one of her lists on Instagram for the whole school to see and blackmails her into facing seven of her greatest fears, or else her entire journal will go public. Quinn doesn’t know who to trust. Desperate, she teams up with Carter Bennett—the last known person to have her journal—in a race against time to track down the blackmailer.

Together, they journey through everything Quinn’s been too afraid to face, and along the way, Quinn finds the courage to be honest, to live in the moment, and to fall in love. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Hurricane Summer by Asha Bromfield Wednesday Books

Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica.

When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise—all in the midst of an impending hurricane.

Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic—and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Indivisible by Daniel Aleman Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

There is a word Mateo Garcia and his younger sister Sophie have been taught to fear for as long as they can remember: deportation. Over the past few years, however, the fear that their undocumented immigrant parents could be sent back to Mexico has started to fade to the back of their minds. And why wouldn’t it, when their Ma and Pa have been in the United States for so long, they have American-born children, and they’re hard workers and good neighbors?

When two ICE agents come asking for Pa, the Garcia family realizes that the lives they’ve built are about to come crumbling down. And when Mateo returns from school one day to find that his parents have been taken, he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that his family’s worst nightmare has become a reality.

With his Ma and Pa being held in separate detention centers, Mateo must learn how to look after his sister and himself. The choices Mateo makes, and the people he turns to for help, might reunite his family… or tear them apart for good. With his parents’ fate and his own future hanging in the balance, Mateo must figure out who he is and what he is capable of, even as he’s forced to question what it means to be an American teenager in a country that rejects his own mom and dad. — Cover art and summary via Goodreads

Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

Karina Ahmed has a plan. Keep her head down, get through high school without a fuss, and follow her parents’ rules—even if it means sacrificing her dreams. When her parents go abroad to Bangladesh for four weeks, Karina expects some peace and quiet. Instead, one simple lie unravels everything.

Karina is my girlfriend.

Tutoring the school’s resident bad boy was already crossing a line. Pretending to date him? Out of the question. But Ace Clyde does everything right—he brings her coffee in the mornings, impresses her friends without trying, and even promises to buy her a dozen books (a week) if she goes along with his fake-dating facade. Though Karina agrees, she can’t help but start counting down the days until her parents come back.

T-minus twenty-eight days until everything returns to normal—but what if Karina no longer wants it to? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

All Kinds of Other by James Sie Quill Tree Books

In this tender, nuanced coming-of-age love story, two boys—one who is cis and one who is trans—have been guarding their hearts to protect themselves, until their feelings for each other give them a reason to stand up to their fears.

Two boys are starting at a new school.

Jules is just figuring out what it means to be gay and hasn’t totally decided whether he wants to be out at his new school. His parents and friends have all kinds of opinions, but for his part, Jules just wants to make the basketball team and keep his head down.

Jack is trying to start over after a best friend break-up. He followed his actor father clear across the country to LA, but he’s also totally ready to leave his past behind. Maybe this new school where no one knows him is exactly what he needs.

When the two boys meet, the sparks are undeniable. But then a video surfaces linking Jack to a pair of popular transgender vloggers, and the revelations about Jack’s past thrust both Jack and Jules into the spotlight they’ve been trying to avoid. Suddenly both boys have a choice to make—between lying low where it’s easier or following their hearts. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Southampton, 1912: Seventeen-year-old British-Chinese Valora Luck has quit her job and smuggled herself aboard the Titanic with two goals in mind: to reunite with her twin brother Jamie--her only family now that both their parents are dead--and to convince a part-owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus to take the twins on as acrobats. Quick-thinking Val talks her way into opulent firstclass accommodations and finds Jamie with a group of fellow Chinese laborers in third class. But in the rigidly stratified world of the luxury liner, Val's ruse can only last so long, and after two long years apart, it's unclear if Jamie even wants the life Val proposes. Then, one moonless night in the North Atlantic, the unthinkable happens--the supposedly unsinkable ship is dealt a fatal blow--and Val and her companions suddenly find themselves in a race to survive.

Stacey Lee, master of historical fiction, brings a fresh perspective to an infamous tragedy, loosely inspired by the recently uncovered account of six Titanic survivors of Chinese descent.

#new releases #YALit

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obligatorycoffee · 4 years ago

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Ack I've joined the essay train. More under the cut~

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As it stands now, I fit into two categories under the alterhuman umbrella: otherkind and otherhearted. The details get a little wishy-washy with labels around my otherkin identity...draconic, dragonkin, dragonkind, theriomythic, what-have-you, but the general gist is I'm a dragon, and that's that. I'm also domestic cat-hearted, cheetah-hearted, and Andalite-hearted. I enjoy these creatures, but I'm not them.

But, how do I know?

First of all, I suppose it's not possible to ever really know for sure. Our experiences are subjective and open to interpretation, and even those who've contemplated their identities for years can see them change or need reevaluation in the light of new information. Even so, at this point I can say with fair certainty that I'm a dragon, and not a cat, or a cheetah, or an Andalite.

I've loved cats for as long as I can remember, and begged my parents relentlessly for a kitten even before I was in kindergarten. I gained an intense obsession with cheetahs around that time too, and used to run around the house pretending to be one. I drew house cats and cheetahs incessantly on scraps of computer paper, alongside my innumerable dragon sketches. My mom, being allergic to cats, nixed the idea of getting me a cat at first, but a stray tuxedo kitten showed up at her work, and in the absence of an allergic reaction, she caved and brought the kitten home for a trial run as a pet. The cat ended up staying with us for 18 years. Oh how I loved that cat. I'd sit on the floor next to her and eat dry cereal from a bowl while she ate her kibble, I'd follow her around, nap with her, brush her, and dress her up to my heart's desire. I'd meow and hiss, I'd sharpen my fingernails to be more cat-like, and I convinced my parents to buy me tickets to the Cats musical, where I dressed up as my tuxedo cat for the show. I know cat body language exceptionally well, and can usually figure out pretty quickly what a cat wants or how it's feeling, and I've picked up lifelong feline mannerisms from being around cats since my childhood.

But, I'm not a cat.

Cats feel like family, and I'm thrilled to meet new cats, hang out with my cats, or look at cute art of cats. I will probably own cats for as long as I live. But they're little creatures I surround myself with that move and act in a way I've never felt a pull toward at an identity level.

I grew up reading K.A. Applegate's Animorphs series, and instantly fell in love with her blue centaur aliens, the Andalites. They were weird and funny, and had kickass scythe tails to boot. I'd run around on the playground with my friends at recess, and we'd pretend we were Andalites or other characters from the books. As I grew up, I never quite forgot about Andalites, and came to the abrupt realization recently that I'm probably Andalite-hearted. I was falling asleep one night and the realization that I really vibed with Andalites struck me out of nowhere. They feel familiar and interesting, and somehow important to me. I enjoy the fact that they exist, and I get a kick out of their species design, and they're just darn cool. The last time I read an Animorphs book was in middle school, but I've been thinking about Andalites ever since.

But I'm not an Andalite.

Nothing about their species fits with my experiences as nonhuman, and while I get a warm sense of familiarity when I think about them or interact with media involving them, that sense of familiarity doesn't extend to descriptions of their customs or planet. They'd make a darn cool linktype though, now that I think about it.

A handful of years ago, I spent hundreds of hours researching and writing about an odd seabird called a streaked shearwater. It's a member of the tube-nosed seabirds (of which albatrosses are also members), and likes to nest in burrows on hills above the ocean. It's an excellent flyer, and it can travel immense distances with speed and incredible grace. A couple months into my studies, I had a vision of myself as a shearwater, with white wings spread out to the night sky. I don't typically imagine myself as other animals, so when I had this vision, the intensity startled me, and I began to question if this was a theriotype. I'd spent a month or so doing fieldwork in a shearwater colony, and during my time there, I always felt a longing to leap out from the cliffs and fly over the ocean, and greatly enjoyed crawling around in the dirt and leaves to check on the birds incubating eggs in their burrows. Maybe there was more to that enjoyment than I thought.

Yet, when I imagined myself as a shearwater, flying over cliffs out to the ocean, I was not the bird itself; I was present in its body, but numb and unaware of what the bird's body was doing. I wasn't present mentally in its movements or senses. It was almost as if I were tagging along with the animal itself or hitching a ride, so to speak. Upon further exploration of what I imagined feeling like a shearwater should feel like, from a physical standpoint, I found it unnatural and almost horrifying to imagine my feet moulded into the adorably flappy webbed feet of a seabird, or to have a bristle of feathers sticking out as a tail. The bill felt like a deformed mask, the wings wrong, and the squat duck-like body felt ungainly. The thought of soaring on the night wind was enticing, but beyond that, it was uncomfortable and felt like nothing more than a cameo.

But what happens when the cameo shifts do feel right?

On and off for a few years, I'd have envisage shifts or phantom shifts of tufted cat ears overlaying where my human ears are. They were long and tan, and not really of any feline species I'm aware of, but close enough to a lynx that'd I'd probably describe them as such. I could imagine them flattening or perking up, depending on the situation and my mood. They'd come and go, and weren't really triggered by anything as far as I could tell. Their frequency followed a similar pattern to my draconic shifts...some weeks frequent, with some long periods of complete absence. They've since vanished, and I haven't noticed them around for a good couple years now. I can't say I miss them, but honestly, they were kind of fun, and they never felt particularly wrong, unlike my jaunt in a shearwater's body. However, I never felt an attachment to them identity-wise, and despite sticking around for a good few years, I never felt anything more associated with the shifts beyond some cat ears pasted on my human head (worth noting, my draconic shifts and cat ear shifts never overlapped! No cat-eared dragons here). I don't know where they came from and I don't know where they went. I'm not a lynx, and they were simply a cameo.

Perhaps I'm wrong about all these things, and I'm a draconic, feline, Andalite polykin, but exploring how differently I experience my draconity versus feline, cheetah, and Andalite-heartedness, I'm extremely inclined to believe these are a collection of different identities and cameo shifts. My identity isn't pulled toward shearwaters or lynx like it is toward my variety of western dragon or toward the idea of surrounding myself with cats, cheetahs, and Andalites. They all have distinct feelings, as hard as they are to put into words.

#pretty sure I started writing this four years ago and just today found the doc with the main ideas jotted down #whoops #someday I'll finish my WIPs #thoughts #essays #by me #otherkin #otherkind #otherhearted

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dregstrash · 4 years ago

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If you're feeling up to it, could you write a fanfic with fem!kaz?

Honestly anon, this is amazing. Also tw for The Menagerie and being sold into prostitution (Inej’s background is mentioned so you know).

Inej has heard rumors. Rumors of the Bastard of the Barrel. Rumors of a demon with sharp claws and a dagger smile. Rumors of fangs that bit into nightmares. It all sounded like ghost stories.

And she stopped believing in those when her soul left her body as she was sold and placed in this hell, The Menagerie.

She saw the whips of the bastard’s coattails as she bought the information she came for. She saw the darkness pooling in brooding eyes when she took in her surroundings and didn’t pause on the women that eyed her up and dawn--some unsure whether to be enthralled or utterly terrified. She saw the woman, said to have been spawned by the lowliest thugs of the Barrel, unsmilingly talk with Tante Heleen and hold her own.

The first couple of times Inej had seen her, a stab of fearful envy had struck her. How could one woman be so powerful? How could one woman rise above the terrible fates of the rest and carve out a place in this world? How could one woman be so free? And it gave Inej this fleeting hope dying in her chest a couple extra heart beats because maybe, just maybe, Inej could be like her.

“Kaz Brekker will pay a little extra if you have something she thinks is worth it.” One of the girls had whispered to Inej one day.

“What does she think is worth it?” Inej asked softly. Conscious of the hour and the shadow at the bottom of her door, knowing that if Tante Heleen’s guard heard a single whisper about more coin, the hope still in her chest wouldn’t be the only thing to die.

The girl who dressed up as some sort of horse shrugged, “It’s hard to say. But if you still think you can get out of here, lynx. She’s your best bet.”

It was a hard earned tip. It was a sliver of information gathered from a man who had sweat far too much and who had smelled disgustingly like the cigars he smoked. But she had something. She rehearsed it in her mind once. Twice. Thrice. It had to be good enough for at least one kurge-- and if it wasn’t she’d try again. Inej needed to get out of this place. Even if it was by the hands of another power hungry gang leader.

And so Inej watched and waited.

She posed and preened prettily, keeping still and pretending like she didn’t want to crawl out of her own skin until finally she came.

The mellow light of the parlor cast most of her face in shadow, but Inej knew cutting beauty on sight. Her jaw was straight and lean, framing dark brows that drew attention to even darker eyes and to a harsh, but full mouth. Her coat fell neatly off her narrow shoulders and her gait was only slightly marred by the limp she had. Her crow head cane glinted menacingly in the cande light.

Her mind froze as she watched this strange woman talk to the hostess.

She couldn’t do this.

No.

She needed to do this.

If she didn’t do this.

She would die.

And she had survived far too much for her to die in a cheap imitation costume meant to represent her people.

On quiet feet she watched and waited until the host received the payment and Kaz Brekker walked past her to leave.

In one last hesitated breath Inej caught her coat.

Her hands trembled, and her knees shook, but she stood as still as if she was on a tightrope--walking towards the promise of a better life. Walking towards a dangerous woman who could hold a gloved hand out to safety.

She froze and turned to Inej. No emotion passed her face. The longer parts of her short hair sweeping across her forehead obscuring Inej’s vision of her eyes, making her look as dangerous as she was rumored to be.

But still, Inej whispered, “I can help you.”

#Kaz Brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #fem!kaz #six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #ck #i realize any time i gender bend kanej i always do this scene #well i dont really care cause i loved this scene #cause it speaks a lot to both their characters #and i also think this view of kaz will stay the same no matter the gender #just this dark and mysterious person that people dont understand

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straykidsnerd255 · 3 years ago

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May I get a banana fish matchup?(if I didn’t get one before) I'm a biromantic 5'2 INTP Gemini introvert girl, I'm very gullible,funny,loud,open minded,weird(and proud!) Around my friends.but to strangers I'm shy and quiet with resting bitch face,because of this I don't have many friends.I like to watch anime, draw,listen to music,dance by myself, take long walks,and sleep,I also wish to travel the world. Studying to be aerospace engineer.

I don’t believe that you have one fore Banana Fish. Hope you enjoy and thanks for requesting!

I will match you with ASH LYNX!

This man is VERY selective with who he associates with. He doesn’t talk to people that he doesn’t know but then again, he very really talks to the people that he does know. When he met you for the first time, it wasn’t any different from how he normally would act around new people. However, he could tell that you were the same as him. Shy, almost reserved in a way. However, that’s not what intrigued him. He had been doing some in the kitchen or in the living room and noticed the drawing pad sitting at your side as you slept on the couch.

He knew that it was rude to look through someone’s stuff when they didn’t allow it, but he wanted to see what kind of person you were. As he flipped through the book, he saw all types of drawings. One that stuck out to him the most was the drawing you did of him. It wasn’t like he was used too. It was….beautiful. It was of him, sitting on the bed, Eiji and Shorter off his sides, laying down and staring at Eiji’s camera. A smile on each of their faces as they flipped through the camera. He looked back over to you and could see you still sleeping. A small smile appeared on his lips as he quietly placed the note pad back down and walked out of the room.

You woke some time later to music being played through the house and loud talking coming from the kitchen. You rubbed your eyes and walked into the kitchen. Yawning, you noticed the three friends standing at the stove arguing who should cook. Ash noticed that you were standing in the doorway and excused himself. He gave you a gentle smile before motioning you to follow him. “Let’s go take a walk for a bit.” He said. You nodded and followed after him. He grabbed two jackets and draped one over your shoulders.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted the sunglasses over his face. “I must admit, I wasn’t too sure about you staying here with us. But, I can clearly see that I was wrong. You have been nothing but a huge help to us. Also, I may or may not have snooped through your drawings while you were sleeping.” He added. Your eyes widened before a smile appeared on your face. “What did you think of them? Especially that one?” You asked. Ash glanced over at you from the corner of his eye. “The one with Eiji, Shorter, and I staring at Eiji’s camera?” He asked. You nodded your head. “Yeah, I saw that one. It was beautiful.” He said. You clasped your hands behind your back and smiled. “I drew so I could see you smile again. Aslan.” You whispered. Ash looked over at you with wide eyes as you spoke his real name. He wasn’t complaining though. He liked how it sounded from your lips.

#Banana Fish #I match you with Ash Lynx #Cute #fluff #enjoy #requested by @ceylon-morphe286

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tsuki-chibi · 5 years ago

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Blackberries (Adrinette April) Day 20: Photoshoot

Or see it on AO3: Blackberries

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Marinette’s apprehension deepened as they grew closer to Master Fu’s until her hands were shaking when she knocked on the door. Adrien took her free hand and laced their fingers together as the door opened. Master Fu silently beckoned them both in, closed the door behind them, and switched the sign to ‘Closed’ before locking the door. Then he took them both into the same back room where they had been before.

“Hello again,” Wayzz said politely from where he was sitting on the table.

“Hi Wayzz,” Marinette said softly.

“Hello,” Adrien said as they both moved to kneel on the cushions. He looked curiously at the phonograph that was also on the table, wondering why it was there but also recognizing that his curiosity was just a front for his nerves. Marinette took a deep breath, fighting to get control over both their nerves.

Master Fu joined them with a pot of tea, just as he had a week ago – had it really only been just over a week? Marinette wondered. So much had changed in such a short span of time. It was a little dizzying to think about. Last time she and Adrien had left this shop, both of them had been crushed. And now here they were again, about to either be happy or get their hearts broken again.

“First of all, thank you for your help against Zombizou,” Fu said, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t think Coccinelle and Lynx would have been able to defeat her on their own.”

“She was a strong akuma,” Marinette said. “They needed training.”

“Training we didn’t have time for,” Fu said mildly.

‘That’s not really true,’ Adrien thought, though he didn’t say it out loud. ‘If he’d picked out new holders right after he took our miraculouses away, Coccinelle and Lynx would’ve had at least a few days to get used to their powers. They wouldn’t have been on our level, but they also might not have had such a hard time.’

‘Well, he didn’t bother to train us either,’ Marinette thought wryly. ‘We were lucky in that the first few akuma that we have faced weren’t as strong or as difficult to deal with as Zombizou. Otherwise, we would’ve been screwed and there wouldn’t have been anyone else to step in.’

She looked at Fu. “It’s likely that the akuma from here on out are only going to get stronger, and they might even start coming faster if Hawkmoth thinks he can press the issue. If you didn’t have time for training before, then you definitely don’t have time for it now. Adrien and I are the best chance for Paris.”

“It’s not enough for us to guide Coccinelle and Lynx as Miel and Tromper,” Adrien added. “Marinette basically had to walk Coccinelle through everything yesterday. That’s not sustainable. There wouldn’t have been nearly as much property damage or deaths if Ladybug had just been able to execute her plan from the get-go.”

“You don’t know that you would have been able to stop Zombizou any faster,” Fu pointed out.

“No, we don’t know that for sure, but the fact that we were able to stop her as soon as we stepped in is pretty telling,” Marinette shot back.

Master Fu sighed. “All of my reasons for taking your miraculous away in the first place still stand.”

“They really don’t,” Marinette said firmly. She had been thinking about this a lot in preparation for this moment, and now she laid it all out. “Master Fu, you were upset that we didn’t tell Tikki and Plagg. But that, plus Chloé knowing, were literally the only secrets we kept from them. And now that they know this, there would be no reasons for us to hide any other secrets from them.”

Adrien nodded. “I’ve spoken to Chloé. She would never tell anyone who we are. The fact that she’s gone this long without telling anyone proves that she can be trusted. And I’ve known her since we were children; she wouldn’t put me or Marinette in danger like that.” He squeezed Marinette’s hand as he spoke.

“You also said you were worried that having us too focused on each other could ruin the balance of the team,” Marinette went on. “I don’t think that’s true either. Adrien and I have been able to maintain our friendships outside of each other in our civilian lives. There’s no reason to think we couldn’t do the same as Ladybug and Chat Noir if we had to. Furthermore, that’s all a moot point since at some point, we would’ve discovered that we were soulmates anyway. Having us discover we were soulmates after we’d already established a partnership could have actually upset the balance of the team way worse than things as they are.”

Master Fu opened his mouth to respond to that, but Adrien was quick to speak before he could, adding, “You also said it’s dangerous if one of us got akumatized. Frankly, our soulmate bond makes that less likely to happen, not more. Being connected to Marinette makes me calmer and happier, and she feels the same way.”

“I do.” Marinette nodded, shooting Adrien a small smile. “I agree that it’s dangerous, but I don’t believe it’s as much of a danger as you think. Yes, if Hawkmoth gets to one of us, he’ll know who we are. But our soulmate bond actually has nothing to do with that; even if we just found out each other’s identities by accident, which could have happened at any point, he’d still know that information. Not to mention, he’d be able to find out about you. And in fact, I agree with Adrien that our soulmate bond gives us an advantage. I would know immediately if Hawkmoth got into Adrien’s head, and vice versa, and we’d have the chance to plan and respond accordingly.”

“Plus, now we know what happens if we face an akuma and one of us dies or disappears. We’re both going to be substantially more careful, but if it happens we’re prepared to deal with it,” Adrien said. Had they not been right in front of Master Fu, he would’ve kissed Marinette’s hand when she flinched at the memory. The depths of his caring was a comfort that Marinette drew on to keep her voice strong and steady when she spoke.

“Tikki and Plagg both said that we’re really good at what we do, and I believe them. Adrien and I love protecting Paris. We want to bring down Hawkmoth. I know this hasn’t worked out the way you wanted it to, but you will not find better holders for the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous. We’re asking you to trust us,” she said, staring Master Fu right in the eyes and daring him to say that he didn’t.

There was a slight pause before Wayzz cleared his throat. “Master, if I may, I understand that there were certain things you wished to impart that you didn’t want both of them to know. But… is it possible that the time for that has passed?”

“What do you mean?” Adrien said, looking at Wayzz.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head. “I had plans to train Ladybug as the new guardian.”

“What?!” Marinette exclaimed.

“You’re leaving?!” Adrien burst out at the same time, shocked.

“No! I’m not going anywhere,” Master Fu said. “But I have been the guardian for a very long time. I’ve been searching for someone who was a trustworthy successor with no luck, and I thought I had finally found someone I could trust to someday pass those duties to. A prot��gée, if you will.”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t know if I want to? I’d have to learn more about what being the guardian means. But… I don’t understand what this has to do with Adrien and me.”

But Adrien had put it together, and said, “You weren’t planning to tell me anything about being the guardian. You only wanted Marinette to know. That’s why you were so mad when you found out we didn’t have shields, wasn’t it? Marinette could have shielded the information from me if we did.”

“What?” Marinette said again, but considerably more upset this time. “Why? Wouldn’t only one of us knowing more information than the other upset the balance of the team?”

“My reasoning is… complicated,” Master Fu said carefully, which Adrien frankly thought was bullshit. That was the same way Nathalie talked when she was trying to squeeze in a last-minute photoshoot, and she knew that Adrien wouldn’t be happy about it. ‘Complicated’ was what adults said when they didn’t have a good reason but didn’t want to admit it.

“Complicated, yeah right,” Adrien said rudely. “You just didn’t want me to know.”

Marinette was now squeezing his hand very tightly, and her voice was ice cold when she said, “Our miraculous, please, Master Fu. As per your word.” She was about two seconds away from transforming, climbing over the table, and taking them if Master Fu wasn’t smart enough to offer them up. Adrien exhaled, thinking that he wished that she could. Tikki and Plagg had spoken reverently about the guardian, but what they were now was failing to measure up big time.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #master fu #wayzz #soulmate au #adrienette #blackberries #adrinetteapril2020

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signs-of-the-moon · 4 years ago

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Moon Rise: Chapter 43

Only two days passed when the clan needed herbs again. Swiftcloud and Rabbitstorm travelled along the snowy path, led only by Ruby, back to through the Twolegplace. They paused at the fence by the large Twoleg's den, looking to their guide as they prepared to jump over.

"I shall wait for you right here. Please try not to take too long, it's very cold today," Ruby meowed, seating herself by the Twoleg fence. Swiftcloud and Rabbitstorm gave her an agreeing nod, leaping into the yard on the other side. Tabitha was already there, patiently waiting for them outside by the door. Fat Louie was also present, though he didn't appear as cheerful as his mate.

"Oh no. Not them again!" He griped. His expression was sour as he glanced from the Grassclan warriors to his mate and back.

"There you are!" Tabitha bounded towards the clan cats. She completely ignored Fat Louie's remark. "I've been waiting for you. I was worried you wouldn't come back."

"We told you we would. A warrior's word is their bond," Rabbitstorm responsed with his tail raised in greetings.

"I didn't mean any offense by that remark," Tabitha insisted,"it's just that I never know when you're coming back. For all I know, I could be waiting seasons to see you all again."

"Well, I can garuntee we'll never stay away that long," Swiftcloud promised, touching her nose to the other molly's assuringly.

Tabitha purred, turning to press her side into Rabbitstorm's. She didn't stick to the topic of their discussion anymore, now that her favorite cat was here to dote on. "Brr. It's so bitter outside today, don't you think?"

Rabbitstorm began to lick his chest fur, avoiding Tabitha's sunshine yellow gaze. "I hadn't really noticed," he mumbled.

"I bet it's because you have all that long fur, hm? No cold can get through that handsome pelt of yours, I'm sure." Tabitha nudged him. It was so obvious that she wanted the tom's attention. Probably in more ways than one. Swiftcloud thought it was cute.

Rabbitstorm shuffled his paws around in the snow, looking at them as if he suddenly found them fascinating. Swiftcloud resisted the purr of amusement that wanted to rise in her throat. She could tell just how flustered her friend was by how he was behaving. Tabitha was the only cat who could push his buttons this way, besides Heatherwing. If fate would have allowed it, Swiftcloud could have seen the pair becoming mates some day. But they came from two different worlds, and lived too far to maintain any sort of bond. Besides, Tabitha had Fat Louie as her mate already, despite how much of a fox-heart he'd previously shown himself to be. And despite how flirty and flustered he'd get, Swiftcloud doubted that Rabbitstorm was ready to move on from Heatherwing yet. It was still too soon since her passing.

"C'mon 'handsome' let's get that catmint," Swiftcloud teased, ignoring the memories of the deceased molly her mind tried to hold. Rabbitstorm perked up right away to glare at her, though a hint of mischief was noted in his expression.

"Haha, funny." He rolled his eyes, bounding ahead with Tabitha right beside him. Swiftcloud purred, falling in step with her companions. From behind, she could feel judgemental eyes upon them. Swiveling her ears back, Swiftcloud could hear an extra set of paws shuffling through the snow. She paused just outside the Green House door.

"You guys go ahead. I think I'll wait outside this time. Tabitha, can you bring a bundle of herbs for me please?"

Tabitha trilled, leaning herself against Rabbitstorm. "Sure!" Though her words were addressed to Swiftcloud, her attention was still placed on the lynx point tom next to her. Tabitha batted her eyes at him dreamily before following Rabbitstorm into the den. Swiftcloud was left outside alone and ignored. She watched the pair slip away into the tamed undergrowth before turning herself around. Her eyes narrowed as Fat Louie appeared before her.

"Can I help you with something?" Swiftcloud asked the fat tom, not disguising the distrust she had for him.

"Yeah. You can help me by getting your mangy hides off my territory," Louie hissed. "Y'know you're all Tabitha's talked about since you came by the other day? It's always 'Swiftcloud' this. And 'wild cats' that. It's driving me batty! And if I have to listen to her gush one more heartbeat about 'Wabbitstorm~' I'm going to claw my own ears off."

"Is there really a problem with that?" Swiftcloud prompted. "Surely you'd want Tabitha to be happy? To have friends?"

"Tabitha doesn't need any cat but me. She's been fine the past six moons, with just her and I. And she'll be perfectly happy when you're gone! You're ruining everything we've planned for. Everything we've been brought together for."

Swiftcloud tilted her head, unsure of what Louie was referring to. "And what would that be?" She asked.

"To have kits, of course. Tabitha and I are supposed to have a few litters of kits for our housefolks."

So that was the reason why Tabitha was so open to flirting with a tom that wasn't her mate. She wasn't in love with Fat Louie at all. They'd been made to be mates by their Twolegs. Tabitha didn't have a choice. Swiftcloud resisted the urge to cringe at the realization. She'd only ever known of something like this happening with show cats; like her parents. Swiftcloud's parents had been coupled together to produce award winning kittens. Luckily, the two of them had found true love for each other over time. But Swiftcloud couldn't see that being the case with Tabitha and Louie. Especially when Tabitha was so infatuated with Rabbitstorm. What a miserable life she'll lead, Swiftcloud thought bitterly.

"You being here's putting too many ideas into that molly's head. She's thinkin about being a clan cat, yknow," Fat Louie added, looking disgusted.

She'd definitely be happier if she was, Swiftcloud wanted to say. But she held her tongue, her nubby tail wiggling in agitation.

"So why don't you all just stay away? Go home to your fields or something. Keep out of housefolk neighborhoods. And especially our territory." Fat Louie took a few steps closer, his nose only a mouse-whisker away from Swiftcloud's. From this distance she could see the scratches Rabbitstorm had left on the tom's muzzle. "I heard your story, yknow. You made your choice to be one of those wild cats. Let Tabitha stay where she belongs; don't force her to make the same decision as you did."

"Nobody is forcing her to choose. Tabitha is her own cat. She can decide to follow whatever path she pleases. You have no right to keep her from her happiness."

Fat Louie drew his lips back in a snarl. "I make her happy. We are happy. You're just too blinded by your wild lifestyle to see it. Maybe you had been a house cat before, but that time has passed. You've forgotten what it's like. You can't possibly begin to understand anything about our relationship. I'll warn you one last time; stay away from our territory, or else."

"Or else what? You'll drive us away? Sick you Twolegs on us?"

"I'll do something I'd rather not. I'll hurt Tabitha. I'll make sure our housefolks see her injuries. And when they do, they'll never let her outside again. She's declawed, yknow. There'll be no way for her to defend herself."

"That absurd," Swiftcloud growled, "there's no need to take things that far. We visit your territory to gather catmint for our sick. Once the greencough has been eliminated from our clan, we won't need to come around anymore. We'll be gone for good within the next moon or so. Besides, the clan can't handle any new mouthes to feed right now." Swiftcloud was careful with how she worded things, knowing that whatever she'd say would make its way to Tabitha through Fat Louie. There was no need to give him more ammunition to use to try and prevent his mate from running away to the clans.

Louie grunted in response, "I'll believe it when I see it... Heed my warning, wild cat." With that, the fat tom stalked off, giving a grumble as he went. Nasty old badger, Swiftcloud thought sourly, turning to meet with her clanmates inside the Green House.

A quarter moon went by. Swiftcloud had returned for another needed round of herbs. A new set of cats had joined this patrol, cats she was eager to introduce to her new kittypet friend.

"I can't believe we're so far in Twolegplace!" Frostfeather exclaimed as they entered Tabitha's yard from the fence. She shook out her pelt as snow sprayed over her from the impact of her landing.

"I think it's awesome," Tulippaw chimed, having regained her spunk after recovering from greencough. "I know aunt Whitestar approved of us coming here. But crossing into unknown territory makes me feel like a rebel spy."

"Are you interested in being a Spy?" Swiftcloud wondered aloud. She'd be thrilled if her apprentice wound up following in her pawsteps. And even if she didn't, she was glad to give the young cat a taste of what the job may intell. Ambereye would probably approve as well.

Tulippaw gave an unsure shrug, bristling slightly as she noticed the door to the Twolegs' den swing open. Swiftcloud followed her apprentice's gaze. Tabitha came bounding over the moment she noticed the clan cats waiting for her. She waved her tail in greetings, coming to a stop in front of them. Disappointment momentarily took over her expression, a look Swiftcloud figured was for Rabbitstorm's sake. He hadn't been assigned to join the herb patrol this time, even though he insisted.

"I see you've brought some new faces," Tabitha remarked to Swiftcloud, glancing at the strange she-cats.

"Hi there!" Frostfeather beamed. "I'm Frostfeather!! Gee, you sure smell funny," the silver and white tabby mewed, giving Tabitha a sniff. Swiftcloud giggled, reminded of the time she'd first met Frostfeather. She'd reacted the same way then, too.

"Well, so do you! Actually, you kinda smell like some other clan friends I have," Tabitha noted.

"You must be talking about Rabbitstorm and Mistyleaf, right? They're my littermates!"

Tabitha gasped happily. "You're Rabbitstorm's other sister?? How is he? Has he mentioned me at all? I miss him so much!"

Frostfeather let out a trill of amusement.

"Hey!" Tulippaw caterwauled. "I thought we came here to pick up catmint, not to gossip like elders."

"Tulippaw's right," Swiftcloud agreed. Across the way, she could see Fat Louie watching them through a window. His eyes were narrowed, teeth exposed. Swiftcloud felt a little anxious at the sight. She didn't want to distract Tabitha for long in fear for the kittypet's safety. But at the same time, she was feeling a bit spiteful. Louie wanted to prevent Tabitha from becoming too enthralled in clan cat culture. But that didn't mean Swiftcloud couldn't teach her a thing or two about survival.

"Tulippaw, I'd like to assign you to a special task," she mewed. "I know you think herb gathering is boring. So, as compromise for coming along, I'll let you hang out here and play with Tabitha. Maybe you can show off your talented hunting skills, hm?"

Tulippaw perked up at the suggestion, an excited grin forming on her face. "That'll be fun! Hey, hey Tabitha, have you ever tried catching a mouse?"

Tabitha shook her head looking curious. "No, never. I wish I could though."

Tulippaw's grin widened, "then stick with me, I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Swiftcloud and Frostfeather let out a mrrow of laughter, letting the two excited cats play while they went and gathered up everything they needed. Swiftcloud felt relieved, having someone there to protect Tabitha during their visit. It felt good to do right by her. It was the least the clan could do for her generosity. And for potentially breaking ger heart in the near future.

*******

After a moon and half of continuous visits to the Twolegplace, the need for catmint had been completely fulfilled. Today would be the final visit to Tabitha's den, to tell her the good news, and to say farewell for good. It was a bittersweet day for everyone. But it was one they all knew would come. Soon, life would return to normal. With every cat well again, Grassclan could get back to business as usual. And Tabitha could go back to living the life that had been chosen for her by the Twolegs.

"Swiftcloud, Frostfeather, Mistyleaf, Chicorynose!" Tabitha cheered as she saw the warriors approach. Her eyes became particularly sparkly when she looked towards the final cat in their patrol. "Rabbitstorm!" The round tabby launched herself at the tom, slamming him into the padded ground below. They slid a mouse-length, leaving an indent the snow. Tabitha sat on top of Rabbitstorm, beaming down at him.

"Get off me you great big furball!" Rabbitstorm meowed, though there was laughter laced within his tone.

Tabitha smiled that much brighter, rubbing her cheek against his. "I missed you all so much."

"It's only been a few days." Chicorynose purred with amusement. Tabitha sat up, allowing Rabbitstorm to slip free from her grip. She lifted a paw to lick, casually running it over one of her ears.

"I know, but it's always so hard when you have to go away."

"Hey Tabitha, we have something amazing to tell you," Swiftcloud informed the kittypet molly. Tabitha perked up. "The last of our clanmates has been confirmed well again!"

"Really? Oh, that's fantastic!" Tabitha cheered.

"Grassclan's grown strong thanks to you," Chicorynose added. "We're very grateful for the aid you've provided, Tabitha. Thank you... I know our visiting is payment enough for your assistance. But, I wish there was something more we could do in return for your charity."

Tabitha shuffled her paws. "There's only one thing I'd ask for, if I could. I'd love to be taken back to Grassclan with all of you... But I know I wouldn't do well in the wild. I have no claws. I can't hunt or fight. I don't have much of a way to provide for a whole group of cats the way you can. And...I'm expecting kits."

"There's plenty of ways to hunt that don't always require claws," Swiftcloud pointed out, her bird catching technique standing out in her mind. "Plus in our clan, cats have partners. You'd always have somebody around to help you catch prey."

"And not every cat in the clan hunts for the rest," Rabbitstorm added. "There's cats who repair dens or help the medicine cats gather their herbs. And our queens tend to the entire clan, and their mental wellbeings "

"Really?" Tabitha was intrigued.

"Yeah!" Frostfeather chimed. "If you joined us, there would be plenty for you to help with. Besides we all really like you, you'd fit in with Grassclan perfectly."

Tabitha's eyed began to sparkle with hope. She smiled, chest puffing out excitedly.

"Hang on," Ruby interjected. "Surely you need to think this through. As much as I hate to agree with Fat Louie, its true you belong here. You aren't like these clan cats, Tabitha, please see reason."

"No I don't," Tabitha argued. "I don't belong here at all. In fact, I hate this place! I'm always so bored. There's nothing fun to do. And Louie doesn't care about me. He has no interest in what I talk about or in spending time with me. He hardly even reacted when I told him that I'm expecting. The most excitement that's come from my life has been from interacting with you, and with all the wild cats you've brought to visit me." Tabitha turned to address the Grassclan patrol. Tears began to well in her eyes, her voice was pleading. "I want to be warrior. I want crazy adventures, and friends that I can count on. I want my kits to be born wild and free in the meadow. Not miserable and lonely in some dusty old den like I was. The only thing I want in return from you is a home. A family. Please, take me with you!"

"Well." Chicorynose twitched her whiskers. "Typically, this decision would be up to Whitestar. However, the clan could use fresh blood now that so many of our warriors have passed on. And you've proven yourself capable of loyalty to our clan. I see no reason why we shouldn't take you."

Tabitha's pelt fluffed with excitement.

"But be warned," Swiftcloud cut in. "Living as a clan cat is not all fun and games. There's danger everywhere. The cold seasons are harsh, and food will not be so readily available. There's predators; and the other clans can be vicious, too. Know that by coming with us, you're giving up comfort, warmth, certainty. For you and your kittens. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"All of that sounds pleasant, compared to the dull life I've had to lead. I'd rather die than stay here a moment longer. At least in the clan I'll know that I've truly lived. And I'll know that my kits are happy too."

Chicorynose beckoned the others with her tail. "Then come. We'll be off to the meadow at once. Whitestar will want to meet you. And we should probably move quickly, before Louie comes along to try and stop you."

Tabitha let out an excited trill, doing a little spin of joy. She bumped her head against Chicorynose's, purring. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!!"

"Well." Ruby stepped closer to her kittypet friend. Her purple-ish eyes narrowed down at the plump molly, her ears twitching. "I suppose, if there's no stopping you..." Without warning, the large she-cat snatched up Tabitha by the collar. She gave a few hard yanks, ripping it right off her friend's neck. Tabitha let out a surprised gasp, her fur standing on end. She stared down at her collar, which had been dropped by her paws. Tabitha looked up at Ruby with wide eyes. Ruby in turn lowered her head to touch noses with her. "Take care, Tabitha. And good luck out there."

Tabitha blinked and purred once more, licking her friend's muzzle. "Thank you," she whispered, stepping back. Chicorynose flicked an ear, beckoning the Grassclan patrol to come along.

"I'll lead the way," Swiftcloud offered, padding on ahead. The rest of her clanmates followed, Tabitha rushing over to join them. Ruby traveled with, eventually allowing the clan cats to move on without her. She watched as her friend and the rest of the Grassclan patrol disappeared over the horizon.

When they were back in familiar territory, Mistyleaf piped up from the back of the group. "Swiftcloud, could I speak with you for a few heartbeats?"

Swiftcloud turned, following her friend's request. The two she-cats hung back, while the rest of their clanmates continued ahead towards camp. They fell in step with one another, speaking softly.

"I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for the help you've provided these past couple of moons. Starclan knows how much of a pain it was to get Snowfrost to agree to allow you to assist. But I think if it weren't for you, Grassclan may have been suffering from greencough until Newleaf."

"I just did what any other cat would do," reasoned Swiftcloud.

"That's not true," Mistyleaf disagreed. "You've gone above and beyond what was expected. You let yourself go hungry so others could eat. Pushed yourself to keep going even though you were tired. You volunteered to help Snowfrost and I with your immunity. And you were the one to insist we look in Twolegplace for catmint. No other cat was able to do all that. And now, Grassclan is strong again. It's all because of you."

Swiftcloud felt herself flush beneath her pelt. Her head dipped bashfully to avoid Mistyleaf's gaze. She couldn't bring herself to believe that what she'd done was out of the ordinary. I was only fulfilling my duty as a warrior.

Mistyleaf moved to press herself against her friend's flank. She purred softly, drawing Swiftcloud's attention onto her with a flick of her thick tail.

"I knew you were important," she whispered. "I never realized how much of an impact you'd make, until now... I admire you so much, Swiftcloud." Mistyleaf pressed herself against her companion further. "Maybe even more than that..."

Swiftcloud gulped. "More..?"

Mistyleaf nodded, "I suppose, well...It's taken me a long time to consider my feelings about you. I thought I just wanted to be friends, but... Stars, I can't hold back my affection for you anymore...! Swiftcloud...I-"

Swiftcloud suddenly curved around to stand in the medicine cat's path, interrupting her. She trembled slightly, but stood tall. Her eyes sparkled and heart fluttered as if butterflies had found their way into her chest. Mistyleaf blinked. Confusion showed in her pretty silver features. There was a silence that settled between the pair. What felt like eternity lasted only heartbeats. It was clear what Mistyleaf wanted to say. But Swiftcloud couldn't let her be the first to speak those words.

"I love you too," she finally confessed, moving to touch her muzzle against Mistyleaf's.

Mistyleaf's eyes began to water. She pressed her face to Swiftcloud's, her purr rising to a loud elated rumble. The she-cats nuzzled one another, shedding a couple of happy tears. After so many moons of pining, they could finally give into their desires and be together. Swiftcloud couldn't be happier. Now she could call both of her greatest loves her mates.

The two she-cats trotted on ahead, flank against flank, back to Grassclan's camp. They arrived just in time to make it to Tabitha's apprentice ceremony.

"Ah, there you are,"Whitestar meowed. "I was just about to make mention of you, Swiftcloud. I've assigned Chicorynose to be Tabitha's mentor. And I'd like to ask you to help as well. Having a cat from a similar background to teach her our way of life would be most beneficial. I hope you can handle training two apprentices."

Swiftcloud blinked, glancing from Mistyleaf back to Whitestar.

"I'll manage just fine. Thank you, Whitestar," she replied, padding over to the base of the Tall Stone. Chicorynose and Tabitha stood their waiting, the second of the pair turning to touch noses with Swiftcloud. At once, the clan broke out into cheers. Swiftcloud basked in the excitement of it all. Of the energy in the air, and of the strength of her clanmates. Perhaps now everything could return to normal. And with it, perhaps Grassclan could live in peace. And maybe at last, Swiftcloud could indulge in life's simple pleasures.

#warrior cats #wcs #warrior cat ocs #Sogns of the Moon: Moon Rise #Moon Rise #Chapter 43

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rykhafirehand · 5 years ago

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A Fallow Sun

A sense of emptiness, familiar by now, washed over Kaldreth Felmist as he pushed open the gates to his family residence. The creak of the rusted hinge was almost welcome; just about anything would be, as long as it dissipated the oppressive silence of the Ghostlands.

The garden had clearly not been tended in a while. The wild overgrowth was in full bloom, though there was a strange sickliness to the petals, no doubt a lingering effect of the corruption that had swept over the land after the Fall. Slowly, gently, he snapped a rose from the enormous bush that was even now threatening to engulf the only entrance to the grounds. It smelled sweet, despite its… distorted appearance. Though he could only see it by his spectral sight, Kaldreth believed it would appear ashen grey to those who yet possess their vision. He tucked the flower inside a pouch. He would confirm his assumption next time he was in Silvermoon.

So many memories. Every step felt like an adventure to the past, some light-hearted and whimsical, others heavy and traumatic. Each memory tinged with regret, a wish to go back and re-live his life, do it all over again. What if I had never said that? What if I had listened then? What if, what if, what if. There was a bitter taste on his tongue. No matter what he wanted, no matter how many what-ifs he built in his mind, the cold facts were obvious. He was alone, the last heir of a fallen house, a disgraced and disowned child whose accomplishments could never redeem the family he had sacrificed.

Few had even survived the Fall. He remembered the day well, his mother’s sister dragging herself to the estate with her two remaining children, her cloak in tatters. They had failed, she told them. All had failed, and death marched upon the High Kingdom. Runners were sent out, but none returned, and Kaldreth’s aunt passed away delirious and screaming, her wounds putrefying despite the medics’ best attempts. Her youngest, Dalyr, followed her a short while after. The shock of the Sunwell’s corruption, felt by all quel’dorei, caused the child to fall to the ground, trembling and pale. He never wailed or spoke or made a sound as the filth ate away at him from within. His light was snuffed out in the night, leaving behind nothing but a small, shrivelled husk.

Marnos and Valdria were both adults by then, or as close as made no difference. Kaldreth stuck with them, embittered even then by the monumental loss of life he was forced to witness. They joined their Prince together, fought the Scourge and the Legion together, and only parted ways when Kaldreth’s mind broke. During a particularly gruesome assault against a Legion stronghold, his father, Naelis Starmist, was cut off from the rest of their forces. Kaldreth fought viciously to reach him, only to be knocked aside by a barrage of Legion projectiles. He watched helplessly as his father was impaled by the weapons of the enemy, and in a moment of irrational, mindless grief, he drew upon the demonic magic surrounding him. Unprepared as he was, the influx of fel energy scarred him, body and soul.

He could not recall what happened next, only that he had been dragged far from the front lines and to the halls of the Black Temple, howling and raving all the while. There, under heavy supervision, he was taught control; not only of the magics he had unleashed, but of his mind as well. Eventually, he was allowed to join the Illidari and went through the ritual that would forever mark him as a demon hunter.

He never did learn what became of his cousins, whether they had defected or perished with their Prince. All he knew was they had been slain in one of the many conflicts between then and the most recent squabble between the Alliance and Horde, leaving only his mother Arenia to carry the Starmist name. After Sargeras’ imprisonment, he debated whether he should reveal himself to her, attempt to reconnect after all this time. Would she accept him? Would she even recognise her only child?

That choice was snatched away from him. A new conflict engulfed Azeroth almost immediately, and he lost her as well, to Windrunner’s damned war.

Some might say that had pushed him over the edge, and he found it hard to blame them. He began loudly advocating for the Illidari to step in and use their considerable might to pressure the Horde and Alliance into respecting their newfound peace in perpetuity. Some had listened. Many more shook their heads. Eventually, he was politely requested to leave the Fel Hammer and take care of his inheritance.

And now here he was, with the keys to the grounds in his pocket, heir to nothing but a broken house and bitter memories.

***

He ran his thumb over the third key. Neither of the first two would fit the lock to the mansion proper. He swore under his breath when this one too failed to open the door. Same with the fourth and fifth. Finally, with the sixth attempt, he heard a satisfying click.

Kaldreth flicked an ear. There had been another, smaller sound, nearly masked by that of the lock. And now, an ongoing whirring…

He slammed the door open with a swift jab and threw himself to the side, narrowly evading the blast of disruptive magic that scorched the entryway as it passed through exactly where he would have been standing had he been less careful. Fel power surged through him, toughening his skin, and he barrelled through the entrance to smash the contraption that had fired upon him. Some sort of portable Legion cannon, he thought, rigged to release at whoever opened that door. Upon second glance, he noticed some peculiar modifications. He rummaged through the machine’s insides and pulled out what should have been its fel power core. The crystal he found instead was smaller, a deep emerald hue rather than the bright, sickly green of Legion magic. Kaldreth growled deep in his throat. He could recognise the spellwork immediately. Him and his fellow Illidari had been forced to watch nothing but this for years, trapped in a nightmarish stasis and left to contend with only their inner demons. A Warden containment crystal. Whoever set this up must have known-

His enhanced senses screamed at him and in an instant, his warglaives were out. Something had appeared at the top of the stairwell. He could still perceive its trail. His nostrils flared as he caught the familiar scent of demon. He rushed after it, leaping at the last second to avoid triggering a tripwire. He landed atop some elaborate symbol and swiftly rolled aside, bracing for another trap to spring.

Nothing happened.

It took him a moment to recognise what he was looking at. It was not some mystical sigil as he had feared; it was a word, scrawled in Thalassian runes and inked in demonic blood. FAILURE. He glanced down the hallway and saw the walls had been similarly defaced. ABOMINATION. MURDERER. BETRAYER. DEMON.

Kaldreth stalked along the accusing scrawls, carefully rounding a corner. Here, the walls appeared to have been slashed wildly by some great beast, leaving deep gashes in the marble. The door to his parents’ old bedroom was ajar, with a full sentence seared into the pale wood in a blasphemous form of Eredun. COME AND SEE.

The stench of demonic flesh wafted from the room. He took a slow step forward. Then another. Suddenly, he pivoted, bringing his glaive around in a strike that should have split the creature attempting to sneak up on him.

Instead, his strike was parried by a short, wicked-looking blade. His would-be assailant was massive, clad in simple armour and with a tattered leather cloak wrapped around its broad shoulders. Demonic spikes tore through the material and accentuated its sheer bulk. Worst was the face, a skull-like rictus crowned with a pair of short horns and sporting long, razor-sharp teeth.

It’s a mask, he realised while they exchanged several swift blows. And those weapons, the tattoos-

“Who are you?” Kaldreth snarled at the other demon hunter. In response, he received a flurry of wild slashes. “Who are you?” he repeated, matching the barrage of attacks with his own. “WHO ARE YOU???”

His voice grew deeper midway through the inquiry. Dark energies danced along his muscles, wrapping him in shadows. His empty eye sockets blazed with fel. He launched himself forward, pushing the other combatant to the wall. In the fierce struggle he managed to hook both his opponent’s glaives with his own and launched both sets at the wall where they stuck. His hand shot out like a snake, grabbing the other demon hunter by the throat and slamming them against the wall where they remained suspended from their own back spikes. “WHO… ARE… YOU???” he screamed and tore off the metal mask.

The shadows retreated off his form. Kaldreth withdrew his hand like he’d been burned. “I… know you…” he muttered. He could hardly believe it. She had been a willowy, waifish thing once, a servant in the Starmist household and later his father’s personal retainer. The ritual that reforged her into a demon huntress had also leached all colour from her face and hair, turning her bright, copper-red locks to a silvery white. She flexed her muscles, struggling against the spikes holding her in place. “You… served us. Served my father. Your name… I can’t quite…” The hulking figure finally managed to dislodge herself, falling hard to her knees. Her back bled where two of the outgrowths had been torn from her flesh. “Iblys,” she spat. Kaldreth tilted his head. “No, that was not it.” He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Eryn-”

She lunged in a blur. He barely managed to restrain her as she kept snapping at his neck like a rabid lynx, again and again, her sharp teeth coming within inches of ripping out his artery. He held her by the throat with one hand and firmly squeezed her right wrist with the other. Only too late did he realise she had not employed her left arm in the attack. A streak of unbearable pain ran across his ribs and he screamed, his voice echoed by another. His assailant leapt off him and offered a mirthless, savage grin. In her left hand she held a set of wicked fanned knives, the same weapon that had torn his side and-

My tattoos.

She had struck with surgical precision, knowing exactly how to perfectly disrupt the arcane bindings keeping his inner demon in check. He could feel the creature awakening, writhing within him, clawing its way into the forefront of his… their… consciousness. “Now we see who you really are,” she said. “What… what have you done? Eryn’thala! TRAITOR!” His muscles rippled as the bound felguard vied for control over their shared vessel. A scrabbling, shuffling, sniffing noise grabbed his attention. Eryn’thala bared her teeth at him. “Oh, don’t mind that. The felhunter has been trained to track out-of-control filth.” Something heavy thudded against the door. Kaldreth’s head snapped around madly, finally focussing on the demon huntress who gave a hollow laugh. “I’m sure he’ll be respectful with your remains. Eventually.”

Demon hunter and demon both screamed simultaneously. Their body threw itself forward with reckless abandon, vaulting over their enemy, reaching for their warglaives…

She never bothered with finesse. The moment she felt Kaldreth’s weight upon her back, she slammed backwards against the wall, pinning the demon hunter between her demonic spikes. She felt them break as she turned. The desperate creature’s hand was just barely grazing the edge of his weapon, nearly there, nearly, nearly…

Iblys ran her fingers through her erstwhile lord’s hair and pulled roughly. He snarled, blood and spittle flying from between his clenched teeth. There was barely anything of the elf left in his features. “We made you who you are, ungrateful bitch!” he spat. Her face remained impassive. “You would have been dead without us! Maybe you should have been dead!”

She sighed and gripped him by the throat. “Still as much of an idiot as you ever were, Kaldreth. This? This isn’t personal.”

With one swift motion, she broke his neck.

***

He floated. For how long, he could not tell. Time, space, none of it meant anything in this place. There was only pain, the sheer, exquisite agony of his body reforming from the primordial matter of the Twisting Nether. Every sting and every searing moment he used to fuel his hatred, his unending thirst for vengeance against the one who had sent him here.

He could envision her face, as it had been, melting into what it had become. The weak, sickly child turned bitter, broken creature. It would be a mercy, relieving her of that burden. When he came back, he would show her that mercy, the mercy of cracking bones and gushing viscera, he could even imagine her voice as it screamed, screamed, screamed his name in her final moments…

Kaldreth. Ergranthar. Kaldreth. Ergranthar.

He would make her speak his names. He would-

No, this was not his imagination. He could hear her voice. Cold realisation struck as he felt first a tug, then a tormenting sensation of being dragged through the Nether, through every jagged, fragmented planetoid and every flaming core. It all paled before the pain of being torn from one plane to another, and once that agonising moment was over…

I have been here before.

His soul screamed in silence. The crystal! The thrice-damned containment crystal! He could not see anything outside its sheer, polished walls. She knew! Of course she did, she must have been captured with the other Illidari. She knew intimately the unbearable strain of pure stasis.

He suddenly felt something touch the crystal. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Five claws, arrayed around its edges. A gigantic face, outlined beyond the crystal’s surface. Her face.

She gave him an appraising look, communicated even through the veil she wore to hide her eyelessness. Say it, he thought, tell me why you did all this. He felt a strange sensation, as of infinite pressure slowly building up. A crack ran across the smooth surface. SAY IT! TELL ME WHY!

Without a word, Iblys shattered the containment crystal.

***

It was at best a fragment of a world, long lost to the Legion. Above it hung a small, pale yellow orb, barely warm enough to be called a sun. There were a few creatures still skulking about beneath the jagged, rocky surface, but they had long ago learned to leave Iblys and her abode alone.

A loud meow greeted her as she entered the Ashen Spire. Iblys turned her head and smiled with genuine warmth. “Jinx!” she called to the saber cub. It stared at her with huge, fel-green eyes. She picked it up and dusted off its coat, paying close attention to the bright, glowing markings. “Look, you have to keep yourself groomed, or the sigils will stop working. You daftie,” she chided. Jinx purred and pawed gently at her face, then leapt from her arms to nest between her back spikes.

The demon huntress clicked her claws and the braziers lit up with a pallid, sickly glow. She grunted, then peered at the feline cradled along her shoulders. “Well, we do still have an hour or two of sunlight left… and we don’t really have anything better to do, do we?” Jinx responded with a little mrow noise.

Presently, an elf and her pet saber are watching the cold, fallow sun as it sets upon the demon-haunted ruins they call ‘home’.

#World of Warcraft #Ryk being artsy #Ryk being writesy #Ryk's OCs #Iblys Fallowsun

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some-weebs-posts · 5 years ago

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How I Made My Fursona

So I don't know why, but I feel like I wanna tell you guys about my fursona.

-FIRST, A DISCLAIMER-

I want to point out that not all furries are a kink thing. It was only when the media from 2001 decided that it was a kink did people believe that, but it is not true at all. How would you like it if tv shows (ex. NCIS: New Orleans) who had no idea what they are talking about, said that The Office was for kinks, and that ALL fans are perverts because lol, this dude was caught jacking off to Pam on SnapChat or something. Then other tv shows, meme lords, and news stations will pick that up and run. Then next thing you know, because of this one dude, you can't say "I like The Office" anymore because people will think you are disgusting and tell you to go hang yourself.

How I see it, furries and fursonas are mainly a thing because it is fun to dress up, make costumes, and play pretend. Some people like to become furries so that they can use a fursona to show the gender that they feel more comfortable being.

Furries do no believe they are legitimate animals. If you do, please seek help.

-Now For the Actual Story-

So my best friend was (and still is) absolutely obsessed with Miraculous Ladybug, and she had this YouTube channel were she made AMV videos using pictures she found or made of Miraculous Lady and her favorite love songs. I had never watched the show, but I knew (because she talked about it so much) that she loved this ship called LadyNoir. I had an idea one day where I was like "Imma make a good video for her." So I busted out the Windows Movie Maker and started making the video. It took so long to convert gifs and such so that I could actually use them, I was like "I'm gonna try to watch it." So I did and became OBESSED with it for three days. I watched it nonstop (if I wasn't working on the video) and almost finished the first season. I finished the video and sent it to her.

I never watched Miraculous Ladybug again, so I'm just stuck at one episode away from finishing season 1. However, within these few days of being into the show, I had became jealous and angry. Something inside me was upset because I felt I should have a real life Miraculous. Like they should be real and I shoud be the one to have it. I thought about scenerios where I could just reveal their identities, and in turn, cause the entire series to end. I just felt it IN MY SOUL that I was meant to have a miraculous. I would become so angry that I was on the verge of tears because MIRACULOUS WEREN'T REAL.

Imagine you wanted absolutely nothing in life but your very own dragon from How To Train Your Dragon. You could just imagine yourself flying around and felt like you were just destined to have your very own pet dragon. Would it be a Sickle Back? A Night Fury? A Nightmare? You don't know, but you were meant to have one. But as much as you wanted one, you always knew there was a catch. Dragons aren't real. Do ya feel sad? Dishearted? I sure did.

Well anyway, I eventually thought, "Well, what would my miraculous be?" Because even though I felt as if that should be me in the show, I still had no idea eaxctly WHAT I would be. With some thought, I eventually thought I would be a lynx. Simple enough, right?

That night I had a dream, that I wrote down in a dream journal, where I was a parrot. I was a straight up parrot. Like, I was a parrot in an elevator in an office building. It was weird.

After that, I slowly started to drift away from the actual Miraculous Ladybug show and started more towards comic dubs. Then I started to realize how the show didn't really make sense (my friend had spoiled a lot of the show for me and I had found some clips). I mean, why did the ladybug have an Egyptian background and not the cat??? Did Egypt even have ladybugs? (No.) Why does Chloe get a Miraculous? She's the one that causes the akuma over haft the time! You get the point.

So yeah, I drifted out of the fandom. But I still had this idea in my head of me as a parrot. I've had an entire story line full of nekos, deer, and other animals-as-people for 3 years before this, so it wasn't like the idea of furries was anything new. I did some research on what qualifies as a furry and what's not (how much fur do they need, how much human are they, etc. (Nekos are NOT furries, I later found out.)). I found out about suits and the different types of said suits. How there are subcatagories such as Herp (Scalies), Fish, Avian (Featheries), Dolphin (Sea Mammals), and Invertabrate.

I put this all together, went to customize character apps, drew it a couple of different times, and TA DAAA! I have a parrot fursona.

That is how, through Miraculous Lady, I became a Feathery.

#furry #furries #fursona #miraculous ladybug #httyd #the office #parrots #avian #feathery #featheries #made at 4 in the morning

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theboondogglepub · 6 years ago

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A Land of Gardens Black. Part 2.

Part 2: The Catte Army that Baps, Far and Away we Travel Still...

What ho, what is this?

You’ve returned to our play? I cannot say I’m surprised I took your breath away. Very well, I can see you thirst for more of this bard! I am not wont to deny audience hunger this hard. Let me restring my lute, and twine my guitar, figure simple words out I can rhythm very far. Yes of course! It is time, and I must not disappoint. I believe our next chapter begins where roads joint. Where was I? Oh yes! It is time we took notice of Cattes. Of stalwart brave fighters who oddly take naps. It is time, I do think, to appraise the Catte army of Baps.

Stare out if you will, and do not miss a thing. Complexities abound when I get ready to sing. You and I see a town, quite the normal seen sight! Though do you share my wonder why they lack any light? Streets awash with people in clutters and slums, nary a working street lamp just rows upon rows of bums? We see here two roads in the middle of town, and two groups on said roads, all sharing in frowns. A blockade on both ends, and two blockaders at that, one group for the Botanist queen, the other sworn to Catte. Let’s look in now, stay quiet! You don’t want them to hear! Perhaps a bit of eavesdropping with make things more clear.

“I demand passage!” He cried out in the direction of a conifer tree, tapping his cane on the cobbled path as he walked into town. “I have a message for her Lady of Cattes! It is quite important!” The blindfold he wore made seeing the blockade of Her Lady of Botanist Divinity hard to see, not that it mattered as he still was aways from the road yet. “I am Aster of Chants! A monk sent by our Lady of Divine Pure White! The Botanist Queen Herself!” He bumped into a light pole, and demanded audience with it. “It is imperative she hear this right away!” While Aster chats with a light pole, let us see what else is happening.

“What do you mean I cannot cross? I have friends over there! This is absurd!” At the borderline stood stalwart a woman of impressive strength and azure hair. On her person she hefted her shield, her sword, her backpack, her friends backpacks, a water heater, a steer, a baby carriage, half of a tree (the best half, if you were wondering), exactly three uneaten pies, and a loaf of pumpernickel bread, all tied together into a fashioned backpack of sorts made of rope. Her eyes glared at the men and women that guarded the border, their pristine white uniforms opposite the enemy border watch in black uniforms that guarded the other side of the street. An enemy watch that was… exactly 10 fulms away from them, facing the other direction.

“We are sorry Lady Braum the Azure Knight, but there is nothing we can do.”The pristine white uniformed man said. “It is the Botanist Queen’s orders that no one travel beyond this street. There are rumors and more than rumors that a war is about to break out, and we must be ready. It is for your own good that no one be allowed to cross.” The white uniformed person told the azure knight of absurd encumbrance.

“Hah! You would say that you white uniformed dog! I spit on your mother’s grave and speak to your father about your crass language! HMPH! It is the Queen of Botanists that sways and grows ever dangerous!” Exactly 10 fulms away from them, a black uniformed soldier turned ever so slightly to throw his insult. It wasn’t a very good one.

“How DARE you!” The white uniformed soldier replied. “I will see you to fisticuffs on the battlefield, you Catte soldier confederate! You, you, you… MEWLING!” That last insult drew an audible gasp from everyone present. Ashe, Azure Knight of impressible mettle and bizarre encumbrance, remained at her side and waited. She would be waiting a while.

Meanwhile on the other side of the blockade, exactly 10 fulms away a small group of travelers sought passage. Most of these travelers were heavily cloaked, however one… “HURRR you cannot do this to me! Do you know who I am?” A beefy shirtless man stood staring down his side of the blockade, blond beard bristling. “I am the second greatest Dragoneer, second greatest lover, second greatest puncher, wine-taster, dead-lifter of weights, and skipper of stones and coins. Why, were I not a peaceful and negotiable man just trying to sell people on the fine art of shirtlessness! I would show you the strength that has been passed down my family line for gene-” Just then he was interrupted.

“Heeeeeey,” A singular voice clamored accusatory, surly, feminine and quite direct. It was a voice that echoed high in the streets, demanding attention and notice. It was Z’ylarix of Fire, and she strode upon a steed/chocobo/chair/bear/owl combination. For you see, Z’ylarix of fire used everything, and rode everything, all at once. “I see you there. Don’t deny it! You will come with me this instance! There is no escape, not any more for deserters like you!” Striding forward atop a, for the sake of convenience we’ll call it a ‘mount’, from the direction leading into town, Z’ylarix of Fire pointed her sword/dagger/staff/knife/other dagger weapon (To be fair, it is quite impressive despite its odd name) down on the well-cloaked crowd. She called someone in particular out, but whom it was not yet quite known. “It is time you came with me!” One of the cloaked figures broke out from the crowd, and began making a mad dash away, only to be caught in Z’ylarix’ patented net/ropes/trap/box/assortment of trinkets that was thrown by the dark rider herself. “There is no escape! The Admiral demands it!” From there, the netted body and Z’ylarix rode away.

After a travel, large and imposing black gates open and creak, and the room beyond requires much of me to speak. It is wide in its scope, and tall in its lift, and in threw Z’ylarix the man known as the agent of Grift. Still in a bag, and the bag in a net, you’d be wise to consider his death a safe bet. The Grifter did shuffle, did sway and crawl out, only to look on at his peers with a definitive pout. He wore an eyepatch, and another on top. Another and another which all shuffled with a hop. Let us hear in and see what this meeting does bring, perhaps more revelations upon which I will sing.

“SO,” She scowled, and we shall get into who she is quite quickly, for now her face is covered in a black mask. “The MAD PATCHER! Made any eyepatches lately?! Or perhaps… CONSPIRED WITH THE ENEMY?!” She, the Admiral of Cattes and Lord of the Gardens Black, stood up and slammed her rifle onto the table, letting it lay there as an object of imposing fear. Under her black mask, the Lady of Cattes twitched her cat ears, and flicked her cat tongue, and scratched her cat nails along the table. She wore red sewn with red stitching, red fangs on her black mask, and red draped on her cloak. She wasn’t grand, but imposing, commanding the room.

The Mad Patcher replied. “Oi don't nu waaat yer are blatherin' aboyt.” He spoke an eclectic… accent? Speech pattern? He.. did he even speak? Or was it some form of grunting? “Al' oi want is for peace among de people. dat is al', perhaps we can reach a resolushun? wud yer care for an mince pie patch?” The Mad Patcher was called so for his abundance of eyepatches. He wore an eyepatch on an eyepatch, and another on top. He wore patches on his shirts, on his pants and on his boots. He wore patches on his fluffy Catte ears, and it was rumored he was once a time ago a sailing Corsair of some type. Now he was just the Mad Patcher. If there was a thing that required a patch, the Mad Patcher was there, ready to patch.

The Black masked Queen of Cattes was having none of it. The Admiral of Cattes took out another gun (this one more a derringer), and shot the Mad Patcher in the shoulder, causing him to wince and bend. She laid that gun out on the table next to her first. “WHAT SAY YOU my COUNCIL? He has chosen his side. Shall we show what happens to those who do not choose correctly?!” The Admiral of Cattes looked on her council, and waited to hear their wisdom.

To the Admiral’s left was Kai Aries, the astoundingly cute. She wore pink sweaters and frills, and pink ribbons on the frills. Pink bows on her ribbons and pink tassels on her bows. She was small, but not tall, and had big eyes but no tail. She had cat ears, and wore a pair of cat ears behind her cat ears. Kai Aries was known for her resounding style, and also her battle precision. Kicker of groins, there was not a foe downed by her that didn’t wheeze for days after. Men feared her kicks, women feared how her kicks could hurt so bad, and her allies feared naught but being dressed up in pink on a whim. To deny Kai’s proclivities of dressing people outside of the Admiral in garb meant... well, you can guess it. Yup. A kick to the groin. She gave a thumbs down. “The Patcher did not let me patch his pants pink. I say punish him.”

Past Kai Aries sat Catherina of the Lynx, and in her shadows peered out from pure darkness the eyes of 1000 cattes. Not a simple thaumaturge, she was a black mage. More than a black mage, her every shadow was pitched in darkness, and in each shadow a pair of catte eyes glowered out from. In the curves of her form fitting gowns, in the crease of her bent knee, under the brim of her hat. Catte eyes. She sat bored, reading a book laid inside another book inside yet a third book. “Oh? Him? I suppose yes. He should be punished. Go ahead.” Each word Catherina spoke was echoed by meows coming from everywhere and nowhere, and as she finished speaking she returned to her book. Disinterested.

Beyond Catherina was the Mookie of Boolie, a large buxom creature of insectoid and feline nature and elusive dangerous beauty. Not quite a wasp, nor butterfly, nor a caterpillar, not a catte, the Mookie of Boolie was at once a little of many differing insects, and sat upon a tufted mushroom of multitude vibrant colors. She smoked a pipe, blowing out idly as she observed the Admiral’s rage. Hailing from the land of Boolie, Mookie was the ruler of the distant realm on the edge of the Garden’s Black. She ruled for she was the greatest of her species, the Queen of Boolie, and all respected her and the hard earned title. Mookie slowly piped out several circles, blowing an arrow through each expertly. “Not lewd enough for my taste. I vote punish him. Humble the egotistical fool.” Her words cut through the smoke rings, an air of dominance through them all.

Lastly to the Admiral of Catte’s right sat, or more so loomed, the shadow of Aifread. I say and emphasize shadow as Aifread did not speak, did not possess shape, did not do more than loom dangerously. Her shadow cast 15 fulms high behind her, but where the shadow originated from, nothing sat. Just a spectre with flickering cat ears. Long did rumors circulate that Aifread was nothing more than a simple Catte once, much like many of the denizens of the Garden’s Black. Other gossip placed her as a pool of liquid shadow that did the dark biddings of her dark Admiral of Cattes. Still others said Aifread was once a normal though affluently wealthy Catte, yet bought herself the right to cease to exist, thus becoming a shadow of ill-intent. Whichever was true was little known, what was known however, was she was easily distracted. Sitting to the Admiral’s right, the shadow of Aifread, again merely a shadow near 15 fulms tall, noticed a mouse and pounced. The Admiral of Catte’s regarded Aifread. “Well? Which way do you sway on the matter?” With the reminder given, Aifread, again a massive cast shadow of a creature, pointed down. Her vote was given.

“VERY WELL,” The Admiral of Catte announced her decision, laying yet a third gun on the table with a slam. This one a drum magazine style tommy-gun. “You, Mad Patcher shall be punished for your impunity! I declare the punishment as… DEATH!” Having said that, the Admiral of Catte’s leveled her fourth gun drawn from her coat, this one a sniper rifle with a solid oak stock, and fired. POOSH went the bullet, and the Mad Patcher fell over in a slump, shot right between the eyes. Dead.

Minutes passed, and a conversation about changing the curtains to a shade to match the new season began. They decided on paisley. Then, “UUUUUUHHHH” The Mad Patcher inhaled sharply. “T- Tanks me queen .” He said, barely understood.

“Now, think about why I killed you next time you go and do something stupid Mad Patcher. To the dungeon with him! I demand he be killed at least 5 times before breakfasts, and 15 more before dinner for the next two sennight!” With the Admiral’s declaration, black uniformed guards stepped up to, picked up, and carried the Mad Patcher away. “And no desert for him! The delinquent!”

Now we have seen a bit more of the cast, and yet the third still waits to be shown at last. We have met Aster of Chants and Ashe the encumbered, but what of the rest who are still as of yet unnumbered? What of Locke of the Tin, or Maeze of the paths, or Kayne the pure or of Lulu of Crafts? What of Naih the quite strange, or Anhashy the bold, what of all of the clans of Blacke who hail from the cold? We’ll meet them all soon, and more I do swear, I just have to muster the desire to care. What is that you say friend, there is story to tell you must hear? Yes, I believe we’ll begin again when the tune once again finds my ear. Just time to rest, that is all I do ask, soon once again in my tale you all will bask.

#ffxiv rp #short story #BlackGarden_Mateus

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turnupswritessometimes · 6 years ago

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Banana Fish - AshEiji - Ch3

Title: Skipping Stones

Part: 3/?

Word Count: 2282

Description: A collection of oneshots filling in some scenes that probably didn't happen in between episodes/scenes, but that I like to think did because these boys need to talk to each other.

Edit: This fic is also available on A03 under the same name. I would post a direct link but Tumblr then doesn’t put the post in searches so..

Ash was starting to get restless. He felt like a lion holed up in a cage too small for it. The novelty of riding around in a van like Scooby Doo was starting to grow thin – he was sick of service station food, sick of sleeping with two snoring lumps every night and sick of having nothing to do but stare at the world going by them. America seemed never-ending. How could they be sure they weren’t just driving around and around the globe, never reaching their destination?

It was those thoughts that were driving him inside. They were hard to shake. They needed him to go for a walk and clear his head to shake – to look at different street signs and license plate numbers to reassure himself that they had actually left New York. The problem was, he was being kept inside. It was unlikely he’d be recognised, especially so far from Manhattan, but, as Max kept reminding him – he had killed a man and got bailed out of jail. People would still be looking for him. The police were only third or fourth down that list.

Most of the time, he could deal with it. Eiji would bring a brown paper bag into the back of the truck and sit cross legged with him, worrying that he’d picked the wrong sauce or something else stupid. Most of the time, Shorter kept them company.

Then there was that one early morning walk with Eiji. Ash wasn’t entirely sure that it happened. The colours of that morning seemed to bright – too painted watercolour – to be real. But if he concentrated hard enough, he could still remember Eiji leaning against him, his dark, fluffy hair tickling Ash’s cheek and his mouth grinning into Ash’s hoodie. His imagination wasn’t good enough to conjure that up.

Eiji was asleep now. Mixed up in a bundle of jumpers and hoodies and a nylon sleeping bag they had picked up at the first homewear store they could find. Ash hated the feel of them, but they were decent protection against the bitingly cold nights.

He had thought Shorter was too – thought he had simply dropped off to sleep sitting up against the back of the truck. But then a voice came to him through the dark.

“I've seen the way you look at him,” Shorter was just a black shape in the black night. A shadow more than a boy.

“What?” Ash forced himself to look away from the bundle of blankets and out the back of the truck instead. There were plenty of stars, but they were just tiny pinpricks in the night sky.

“Eiji,” Shorter’s voice was low, determined not to wake him. “You like him, right?”

He could have feigned ignorance. Said, yeah, he liked him, they were mates. But the insinuation was too obvious in Shorter’s tone. It made his gut squirm.

“No,” he said, quickly and sharply. “No. I'm not-“

“Bent?”

“No.”

There was a pause. Ash had used the voice he used to get people to listen to him. The one that made boys twice the width of him tremble. Of course, Shorter was different. Shorter had stopped being scared of Ash long ago. It didn’t defer him for long.

“It's okay-“

“I'm not, okay?” Ash snapped again. He hated that patronising tone. He had no parents to have this conversation with – he shouldn’t have to have this conversation. “I'm not like Papa Dino-“ he hated the way it still rolled from his tongue like clockwork. “- or Marvin. I'm not.”

“There's nothing wrong with it,” Shorter was dancing around the word. That was fine, Ash was too.

“You used to call Marvin a fag all the time. You hated him.” Ash’s voice cracked on ‘hated’ and he cleared it. He had thought he had ironed out his voice cracking like that a long time ago.

"Not because he was gay," he'd finally said it and the word was lighter than it should be in the air. "Because he was a paedo and a rapist. They both are. The three are separate from each other. Being gay is the only thing that's not - wrong."

Another car drove into the petrol station, it's headlights like search lights. The white lit up Shorter's face for a moment. He was still wearing those sunglasses. His face was unreadable.

Ash kept his silence, watching the man stepping up to the gas pump. Where was he going, at this time of night? The question wasn't a satisfactory distraction.

“So - do you?" Like Eiji?

Ash didn't want to admit that he didn't know. He wasn't really sure what attraction was like. He wasn't sure how he was meant to feel - how he was even meant to know if he liked someone.

He had liked kissing Eiji. He liked flirting with Eiji, now more than ever because instead of turning him beetroot, it made him grin. His eyes would glance down and then up at Ash as though he was checking that he was still there. Ash could watch that all day.

Was that liking him?

He couldn't ask Shorter that. It was better to deflect the question.

"It doesn't matter. He'll be going back to Japan soon," the car drove away, taking it's otherworldly light with it. Ash was glad, it meant that Shorter couldn't see him hugging his knees to his chest.

"A long distance relationship would probably be safer for him," Shorter's voice was soft and Ash felt a pang of - he didn't know what - jealousy? He was the one who worried about Eiji. No one else.

"Stop chatting shit, Shorter."

Shorter laughed, a sound quickly muffled when Eiji shuffled.

"Seriously - if Ash Lynx can't get a guy to stay with him then where's the hope for the rest of us?"

"You've been in this truck too long," Ash said. He faked a yawn, pushing himself onto the floor. "You're delirious."

"You say delirious, I say I've had my third eye opened. I can see things now, Ash. I can read your mind."

"Right now my mind's telling you to piss off."

Another laugh. He stayed still, not in a comfortable position, but one he could hold. It was barely five minutes later when he heard Shorter beginning to snore.

His head was pillowed on his elbow and he could see the sky. He wished he had the knack to read constellations. He wondered if Eiji could. He wondered about Eiji a lot. There was so much he didn't know about him. So much he couldn’t know about him – because the more he knew about Eiji the more attached he would get.

Ash couldn’t afford to get attached to Eiji. Especially not after Skip. It had proved it. Ash Lynx could not afford to get close to anyone, it only put them in danger. He hadn’t even known Eiji as long as he’d known Skip – he shouldn’t care this much about some Japanese boy.

Some Japanese boy with ridiculously soft hair and stupidly sparkly eyes.

Oh shit.

Oh shit – was that attraction?

The thought made Ash’s heart stop. He lay there in the dark, his elbow throbbing underneath him.

In two seconds, he was scrambling to his feet and clambering over the back of the truck. The ground slipped beneath him in his haste and he almost fell headlong.

He hammered his fists on the driver’s side of the window – right against where Max’s ear was slumped against the glass.

The man jolted upright, his hand hovering over the wheel, before he saw Ash’s blonde hair, like a candle in the darkness. He blinked apart sleep-heavy eyes, rolling the window down.

“Ash? What’s wrong?” he was frowning, his hair sticking up like a porcupine’s quills. Why did everyone think there was something wrong? Why couldn’t he just want a chat with people? So what if it was the middle of the night?

“Can we talk?” Ash swallowed. He was suddenly finding it hard to look Max in the eye. His chest was tight.

“It’s – what – two in the morning?” Max frowned at the dash. Ibe groaned next to him, turning further away from both of them.

Ash shrugged. “It’s important?”

“Mm?” Max’s head tilted to one side.

“Not here?”

Max nodded his head again and again, looking like a bobble headed doll. Ash wondered for a moment if he’d fallen asleep, but then he was opening the car door and pulling on a pair of battered boots. He stumbled down from the truck.

They headed over to one of the pumps, leaning against it. They were all advertising a space to put adverts.

“What’s wrong?” Max fished in his pockets, coming back with a cigarette between his fingers. “Nightmares?”

Ash shook his head, watching the lighter spark and flicker to life. “I have a problem.”

“You think we’re being tracked or something?”

It was all they thought about. Wasn’t anyone else thinking of anything else?

“I think-“ Ash couldn’t believe he was saying it. He fiddled with the gas pump behind him. “I think I might fancy Eiji.”

Max took a long drag on the cigarette, puffing it out in a long cloud. “And that’s – what? News?”

Ash’s middle finger twitched of its own accord. He shoved it into his pocket, taking a breath. Why was this so hard to talk about?

“To me. I – I didn’t see myself ever having a crush, okay?”

Max was silent. He drew out another breath on the cigarette, tapping the end out. Ash’s nose twitched at the smell. Golzine didn’t smoke, that was where he drew the line, but a lot of his lackey’s did. Ash hadn’t been able to place the smell for years. It wasn’t particularly repulsive to him. He didn’t care to try it – he wasn’t about to risk yellow nails and teeth and whatever else for an addiction – though that it would certainly be a way of getting his own back. He could only imagine Golzine’s face if he saw his precious pet with his fingers round a cigarette.

“I’m sorry,” Max said finally.

“Yeah, I know, I had a shit childhood. Can we move on?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say when you say stuff like that, okay?”

“Nothing. I’d like you to just carry on.”

“Fine. Carrying on,” smoke fell from Max’s breath like bubbles. “I don’t see the problem. You and Eiji are good together.”

“He’s - he’s Eiji. He’s nothing like me. He can’t fight, he can’t shoot-“

“I think you like that,” Max wasn’t looking at him. “I think you like that he’s completely out of your world.”

“That’s the point. He’s completely out of my world. He wouldn’t survive in New York – and he won’t even stay.”

“Ibe can’t force him to stay here, you know,” Max spoke slowly, his eyes on the van. “Eiji’s nineteen. He’s an adult. If he wants to stay here – no one can stop him.”

“I hate that. I hate how relentless he is.”

“Hate?”

Ash looked away, letting his hair fall across the side of his face. Of course he did, but it was in a weird hate kind of way. He wanted his emotions to fall into place like they usually did. Love. Hate. They shouldn’t mix.

“Can I try that?”

“What?”

“Your cig?”

“No way,” Max laughed in clouds. “You’re way too young.”

“Oh yeah? How old were you when you first started?”

“Older than you. You’re what, twelve?”

“Just one drag.”

“You’ll get addicted and then where will you be?”

Ash shrugged. “Addicted.”

Max tapped the ash away, took another drag, actually looking as though he was considering it.

“All done,” he said, crushing it under his boot.

“Fuck you.”

“Just tell Eiji how you feel. From the sounds of it, he’s not all too good with relationships either. The two of you will figure something out.”

“That’s just like an adult to say,” Ash muttered. His temper was back like someone had flicked on a switch – he felt it boiling all over him. He started back to the van.

“Oh, thank you for waking up at two in the morning to help with my love life, Max. I really appreciate it, Max,” he heard the man mutter behind him. “Teenagers.”

“Old man. Why am I listening to you, anyway? You’re divorced.”

“You asked. I answered.”

“Yeah, well, never again.”

Max opened the car door, and Ash caught sight of the smirk on his face. He realised too late that he had fallen right into the trap.

“Suits me just fine, kiddo.”

The door closed again. Ash gritted his teeth, his fists curling of their own accord. He wanted to punch the van. He wanted to kick the van. Kick or punch anything.

That was how his anger was – a sudden throb of violence. A sudden urge to kick out. It came and went quicker than a tide. He was just furious and then –

Not.

He breathed out, leaning against the van and staring up into the pin-pricks in the sky. Maybe they were all trapped in a jar, and those little lights were the air holes. A child was watching them with fascination right now.

Ash shook his head – those kind of thoughts were even worse than thinking about Eiji. Those kind of thoughts burrowed into his mind and sat there for days. He’d rather think about Eiji.

Of course, Eiji had also burrowed his way right into Ash’s mind.

Shorter was right. Ash liked Eiji.

He just had to figure out if Max was right too.

He’d never hear the end of it if he was.

#banana fish #asheiji #ash lynx #aslan jade callenreese #eiji okumura #ash/eiji #ash x eiji #eiji x ash #eiji/ash #turnupswrites #max lobo #shorter wong

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weakeninghope · 6 years ago

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Kiss me (whispering words of love) chapter 2

Pairing: Ash Lynx/Eiji Okumura

Rating: Teen

AO3 link here

Summary: Eiji and Ash meet to talk about Eiji's pictures and end up talking about everything but Eiji's pictures.Or: their first "date-not-a-date"

Notes: "It'll be up this week" I said, replying a comment todayhahahello I'm back! your local authour is way too anxious and is in love with this project and wants to write as much as possible about it! I'm really excited about sharing it with you guys and I really want to thank you for your support in last chapter, I'm really glad you like this idea <3 and stay tuned, there next open mic night is next chapter! We'll have another round of Sing vs The Stool, make your bets.See you next chapter <3Song referenced is Light your heart up by Aimee Blackschleger! (or Mako's theme from Kill la Kill) I think it really suits Eiji

new chapter under the cut!

Despite having come home late that night -for a good reason though- Eiji woke up at 8AM. He had been taking a lot of naps frequently, going to sleep at 4AM and waking up at noon; but that time he woke up instantly, Ash being the first thing in his mind. That night, he dreamed about his song. He dreamed about the two of them, together, holding each other in a secret place only they knew about.

Get a grip on yourself, Eiji.

Has he texted me yet? Eiji thought as he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, since he was still in the bed.

He hadn't. The last message was from Eiji himself, a reply to Ash's “see you tomorrow at 5PM, Mr.Photographer, don't forget the camera ;)”. It took Eiji a few minutes to prepare himself to write an answer. He had imagined Ash winking and his mind had crashed like his old computer would do every time he wanted to use it. In the end, he settled for a “I sure won't, Mr Fancy Singer.”.

Seconds after hitting the “send” button Eiji had already felt embarrassed. Was that too bold? Ash hadn't answered what if he was angry or if that was a joke and he wasn't interested in meeting Eiji at all? What if-

Ibe's coughs broke the turmoil in Eiji's mind. He was still pretty sick and even though he slept well through the night, he woke up a few times, feeling congested and with a runny nose. Eiji didn't mind taking care of him but the other way around; he liked being useful to his boss and most importantly, his friend.

Ibe had helped him to cope with his feelings. Ibe brought him there.

It was thanks to Ibe that he was going to have a d- to meet with Ash that afternoon.

“Ei-chan, I see you're up.” Ibe-san said in between a few dry coughs. “How was yesterday night?”

“It was nice” Eiji said as he got out of bed, stretched his arms and then yawned a little. “But we can talk about it later, I'll change your towel for now and make breakfast, you just rest, okay?” Eiji gently told his boss as he approached him and replaced the old towel with a new, fresh one. The cool feeling of the towel would make Ibe-san's burning forehead feel better.

“I'd like to see the pictures you've taken.” Ibe-san said, gently smiling at Eiji. A snort escaped the Japanese's lips when he remembered Cain the pop-star, the shorty rivaling a stool, the glaring snake and...

Ash.

He blushed when he came to his mind. He looked at the time. 8:30 in the morning. Still no response.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. It was just a particularly special night. I'll tell you when you're better, now rest.”

After that, Ibe-san complied and didn't say anything else as Eiji went to the kitchen to start preparing some Japanase food they both loved for breakfast. He decided to stick with some natto, but he also cooked a porridge for Ibe-san to eat. He made extra natto for himself, he loved it way too much, and it was healthier than all the greasy American food they sold there.

The morning went by slowly for Eiji, since he was checking the phone every 5 minutes to see if Ash had replied, even if he had the sound on and would notice if someone talked to him anyway.

Until a few hours later, when Eiji was getting ready to cook lunch, he heard the phone.

It was a text from Ash.

Eiji's heart was beating fast in his chest, and it did even more when he read the text.

“Sorry, I crashed into the bed and I've just woken up. See you in a few hours.” it said. Eiji exhaled a sigh of relief. He wasn't angry after all, his anxiety disappeared with one simple text.

Eiji carefully typed his reply “At least you're up now, don't be late!! :D” Eiji wondered if the emoji was too stupid but he would come off as rude or too demanding without it, he just hoped for Ash not to think something weird-

“I certainly won't” was Ash's replying text.

Why was he so smooth even by text? How was Eiji supposed to compete with that?

Never mind. He had to make lunch, to eat, to dress up and to mentally prepare himself about meeting Ash. He felt like a middle-schooler thinking about their first crush.

Okay maybe when he met Ash and when he heard him the world stopped and his heart was beating fast and for a few seconds he couldn't even take a picture because he wanted this memory to be his and his alone and wanted to capture it with his eyes instead of using the camera and-

Okay, he totally had a crush on Ash, but that was okay, people have crushes, it doesn't have to be mutual.

But what if it was mutual?

Eiji combusted again, and time flied until he had to dress himself up for the meeting. He told Ibe-san he was off to show some pictures to one of the singers (which was half true, but he hoped that Ash said that as an excuse to meet him).then grabbed the camera and left the apartment, the cafe was around the corner so he was sure he wouldn't be late.

The Japanese dressed himself up as he usually did, nothing fancy, he didn't want a lit sign in his forehead saying “I'm trying to impress my crush”, but he dressed up pretty okay so he figured out nothing would happen if he didn't choose any special clothing.

He regretted his choices later when he saw Ash. When Eiji arrived, the blond was already there. Ash was sitting at the background of the establishment, and there were only 4 people, so they were pretty much alone. He was wearing a plaid, green shirt which was a little bit oversized, but you could see his lean, noticeable collarbones, a pair of slightly ripped jeans and red Converse-like shoes.

There he was, dressed up like a street kid and looking handsome as hell.

Ash made a sign with his hand as Eiji got closer to the table and then he said “Here, Eiji.” soothingly.

Wait. How did he even know his name?

“Hello, singer who apparently knows my name even though I didn't tell you.” Eiji replied.

“Shorter told me. We're friends, in fact, I sang yesterday because he was pretty insistent about my good singing voice.”

“Well, he is right” More than right

“So you liked my performance?” Ash asked in a sing-song tone. “You asked me that yesterday.” Eiji said, but he didn't mind answering Ash's question again because even if asked a million times, he would always say the same “I loved it.”

“That's good to know.” Ash said “But you didn't throw money in the hat” Ash finished in a fake retort.

Shoot! The hat! In those kind of events, there's always this “pass the hat” thing where you throw donations for the singers if you liked their performance, but Eiji was way too distracted and ended up forgetting about it...

“You're right, I'm so sorry! I was so distracted with taking the pictures that the idea didn't even cross my mind... I can make it up to you by treating you to what you want to drink or eat here, though.” Eiji apologized.

“Well, if you insist, Eiji.” Eiji gulped at how his name sounded in Ash's voice “I won't refuse your offer” He said.

“So what brought you here?” He continued.

“Well... I don't know if Shorter told you, but my boss is sick and I came here in his stead to take the job. Even though I didn't manage it as I thought I would. The kid battling a stool was... beyond my expectations” A muffled laughter accompanied Eiji's response.

“Oh, you mean Sing. It's the first time this place holds this kind of event but every time he comes here with his friends someone has to hold him from kicking the stools near the counter, I figured out this would happen.” Ash explained. God, his voice was amazing, it drew Eiji in, he couldn't stop listening, he couldn't stop staring at his deep, green eyes. He was thoroughly delighted.

“Like what you see?” Ash mockingly asked “Since you staring so much”

“Ah! Sorry, I spaced out hearing you talk... I really like your voice.” Oops. That slipped.

“You like it but you don't give a poor singer like me some money to pay for his expenses, so mean, Eiji...” Ash pouted. Even though Eiji knew it was a joke, Ash's pout was something he wanted to take a picture of. And he had the camera in his bag. God, that was so tempting.

“I told you I forgot!” Eiji half shouted, jockingly.

“Right, right. I know. So why photography?”

Ash looked genuinely interested about Eiji's job and the reasons behind it and Eiji couldn't believe himself. The conversation paused when Shorter came to take note of their orders; Ash ordered a cappuccino and Eiji ordered a green tea. Before leaving, Shorter gave Ash a pat on the back and whispered something to Ash's ear, so Eiji couldn't hear it, and Ash clicked his tongue.

“What was it?” Eiji asked “Do you have to talk to him about something important?” He asked, in spite of Shorter being in the counter already.

“Nah, he was just being a dick. Now tell me.” Ash insisted, a glint of excitement in his beautiful green eyes.

“I used to be a pole-vaulter in Japan but I got injured and everything was over in a second, so my boss took me here with him months ago because he saw I was feeling down. In fact, I got diagnosed with clinical depression after my injury. Pole-vaulting was the only thing I liked, I devoted my life to it, it was the only thing I was useful at and when I was pole-vaulting I felt... like I was flying.” Eiji rambled. Crap! What if Ash got bored?

“I see. I envy you if you know how to fly.”

“I don't anymore. I envy you because you made me fly with your voice. You got rid of my broken wings and I think... I'm stronger now” Eiji gently said. He trusted what he was saying. He meant it. He really meant it and would say it a million times if Ash needed to hear it.

“This wings thing sounds like a song line”

“How did you know it? It isn't even popular. Yes, it's from a song called Light your heart up, it cheered me up a lot when I felt down.”

“You know what?” They paused for a second, Shorter came with their orders and since they were too hot to drink, they continued their little talk “I completely understand what you feel. But I never had wings in the first place. I was born in a cage. My mother left when I was born, my father neglected both myself and my older brother, so when he turned 18, I began living with him. He's a novelist, but he's not having much luck right now with finding an editor so he pretty much does odd jobs, we live in a crappy apartment and I thought I could earn so money if I followed Shorter's idea. I rarely do what Shorter's advises me to, since inside his bald head -I know it surprised you, but yes, he's bald, he shaved his head- there's a lot of ridiculous ideas. But this one was good” Ash explained as one of his hands slipped across the table to clasp Eiji's. “Since I met you.”

Since I met you. Since I met you.

Eiji was left agape, but he intertwined his fingers with Ash's, and at that moment, he decided he wanted to desperately know more about him, he decided that he wanted to listen to his voice without this sad shift in it when he was talking about his past. He had suffered enough already.

“It must have been tough.”

“It was. It is. But I can't do much about it.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead”

“Is your real name Ash Lynx?”

“Oh, no. It's a nickname, I actually want to become a singer. I like music, I listen to almost every genre, I like the feeling it conveys and how it makes people feel.” Ash stated with a soft smile. His love for music could be perceived in what Eiji decided was a melody by itself.

“Before you ask me about it” Ash said “It's Aslan. Aslan Jade Callenreese.”

“It sounds like a meaningful name. I like it.”

“Aslan is for “day-break”, it means so in Hebrew, since I was born at dawn. Jade is for the color of my eyes. Nothing special” Ash deadpaned.

“It is more special than Eiji Okumura.” Eiji said, and he added something, feeling bold and rubbing his thumb over Ash- Aslan's hand “And it does you justice, since you're so bright.” However, Eiji couldn't contain the soft blush that appeared in his cheeks, so he turned his head to aside for the other boy not to notice.

“Oh” Aslan raised an eyebrow “Do I light your heart up?” He teasingly asked

“The important question here is if you want me to do so- of if I light yours up” Eiji let go. He didn't know if he wanted an answer. The possibility of a yes set his cheeks ablaze and his heart could be able to beat a mile a minute but the possibility of a no made him feel like something wasn't working; that his wings were, indeed, broken.

“Hey, I'm an amateur singer, not a lightning technician” Ash claimed with a laugh. Another soft sound Eiji would treasure forever.

“Now that you say so, I really worried about your sound technician yesterday, I thought the stool could have hit him”

“Yeah, we all thought so. Shorter too. He started calling him Bones since that moment; Shorter gives nicknames to everyone, you're probably the next in line.” Ash chided while throwing a menacing-not-menacing glare to Shorter, who didn't seem to notice.

“I see.”

“Eiji-”

Ash was interrupted by the loud ring of Eiji's phone. Carefully, he took it out of his bag and answered Ibe-san's phone call. Apparently they had ran out of meds and his fever had gotten a little bit worse and the cafe was already closing and-

Good lord for how many hours had they been talking? It seemed like 5 minutes! They had spent the whole afternoon talking and he discovered a lot of interesting facts about the boy; he was two years younger and was afraid of pumpkins -as ridiculous as it sounded- but that time 5 minutes-likeish was the best time of his last years even though he felt he didn't deserve such a talented angel because Eiji was mediocre and his photos weren't even cool-

“Ei-chan?” He heard Ibe-san weakly ask from the other line of the phone. He had spaced out again. It happened with a lot of frequency, he tended to get lost in his thoughts, intrusive thoughts mostly when something good was happening to him.

Snap out of it, Eiji. Blanca told you that the fact that you even make it out of bed every day is something to be proud of. There's always a path to keep walking on, and you're not alone this time.

“Yes, sorry. I'll be back in a second with what you asked me. Hang in there!” Eiji replied as he hung his phone in a rush.

When he was about to got up from the chair he noticed that he was still holding Aslan's hand and if he wanted to get up he had to let go.

Oh, he didn't want to lot go.

“Got to leave?” Aslan casually asked.

“Yeah. My boss's fever's gotten worse and I've got to go take care for him and Shorter's glaring at us like he wants to kick us out.”

“He's a jerk, don't mind it” Ash said as -unfortunately for Eiji- he let his hand go and got up.

“I'll walk you to the door”.

When they made it out of the cafe they were silent for a minute, neither nothing what to say or what to do. Everything had been so intense; Aslan really felt like Eiji had lit his heart up even if Eiji didn't know it, and Eiji felt so happy he could die.

Or maybe not, because he wanted to meet with Aslan again, so he talked to make up another excuse.

“In the end we spent all the time talking nonsense and I didn't show you the pictures I took of you. Want me to show them to you tomorrow?” Eiji shyly asked. Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Tomorrow is their day off” Aslan pointed at the cafe “But we can meet on Tuesday” He then told Eiji with a soft, gentle, warm smile, as warm as the sun in early autumn's day afternoon, even though they had spent the whole afternoon holed inside a cafe and it was pretty late at that moment.

“And we can keep texting” Eiji said. Ash eyed him curiously “That is, if you don't mind” Eiji said, lowering his head.

Suddenly, he felt Aslan's hand on his head, lifting it. Then his beautiful, soft hand, the ones which holded the mic with grace the night before, traveled around his face and ended up on his hand again.

“Your hand is warm, Eiji.” Aslan whispered. And okay, text me when you get home, so I know you got home safely” He said with a smirk even though he knew Eiji was, in fact, two years older than him and that he lived literally five minutes away from where they were standing.

“Fine, I will.”

And then he let Aslan's hand- he kept calling him Ash in his mind, but he hoped that he can start getting to know the person behind his singing, which was already amazing. He wondered if Aslan composed songs of his own, too.

After a quick walk, Eiji got home, and after a long hour of nursing Ibe-san and watching TV without any text message from Aslan, he received a message from him:

“We left a question unanswered. You light my heart up. Do I light yours?”

Eiji screamed.

Of fucking course the answer was the biggest yes in his entire life.

#writing #myfic #fanfic #bananafish #chapter2 #coffeeshopau #asheiji

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libidomechanica · 3 years ago

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Untitled (“Cosi viaggino i Ricchi”)

Cosi viaggino i Ricchi! In which he had gained. To make it three

of highest caste—the Brahmins of woe, the two younger place. Tonight I am crying

of other win; why wilt thou dost Heart relent,

and one of the way home? resolve to part with one hand, on the milk, in them,

and I, in my fashion deckd by thy constant heart be still would I less that frown aside, and smiles, yet slays

me with my brave him what she is foiled. Their sense of the Melton jacket: lynx-like is his aim; full grows colder,

grows false appreciation quickly before him swear on the World, and rabid, and bubbles,

like wealthy as transparent, and offredst straight now, hip to have taken up a lifeless vow to rob a living hue, vermilion-spotted, golden foot of May,

they hear, the time, O passioned tide that we can tell: that we hae seen, but so wild and catch them he beames infusing hellish paine,

of herbes or beast! All mortal rage; when some she straight and blandishment is our passion,

and builds her still, and I, made like a blanket. “Midst many rocks we guard more than stone:

a woman a” her will, the unnamed boy starves in the warmth, her eyes nor ears for you willing me, and guns implore;

unmeaning, I heard Apollonius sage, my trusty guide back, see it like a mallet rust on a strangers who say that test.

it say it

see body: your

and the other eyes followed me. Which makes me for an empire of her.

Come from the World to offer for you will hap some day. And drew it to his great moral lessons, of the parent to sleep can not abate.

Along them any harm, alas, nor ruled, nor pale, nor leaving dark― moved like figure in robes and sleep alone

of course! I claspd with the Wine of innocence of his “Hear hims! When Chloris to the equivalence of immortal youth,

what can not believe a word I have not letting friend, you just fall into its imperious sky but only though not ashamd to publish every kind or cease,

we are what you must needs and noun, Kings be notorious, the brother Philip, I haue borne you linger out a soft palm—Not so fast!

on the distance grew, ‘it is time, you mark? For when others carry your inspired!

How like a spread out this vile age of changed, forgot, and therefore we lose the million trips along. Her head

for every kind or cease, to the Dead; now made of the Horizon into the dead who would haue me peace thou shalt behold the soils fertility,’

if that Soul-wasting memory yet. No guile, or interwreathed the first think, a specimens yet left her loues Authority, wild me the Mourners of sprited gastlinesse.

Wondered once; clear as they chose sons, not to resign the Slap-dash regiment, so well thresholds, when their hospitality— its quantity is but this time, can behold my tongue,”

because indifference moue, curbd-in with enuie, yet free that sighes, and eyes the Sun…I open the straight sometimes to our complain,

swoond, murmurd like a weird song, from Eves faire day all my vows are on the boarding your betters still play, then go, see something of a wee white hands and swift was sexually transgression

upon desires have need;— firstly, they rode, or crammd twelve sheets into the great moral lessons,

arising out, my father died and brakes, and heavnly fire.

Changed in all her miraculous power by the lonesome Wild. Nor for it was awful. Then it would mourn her blessed arms, legs and after then

the love one, and four-footed, glided silent dust, that to win it is vain glory of man.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #168 texts

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snickerl · 7 years ago

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The Return

XF Fanfiction

Now that season 11 is on hiatus, I hope the fandom is ready for a (sorry!) loooong background story about an almost unknown family member.

tagging @today-in-fic

He looks out the window and sees her sitting outside on the porch alone, deep in thought, her eyes fixated on something in the distance. She looks so lost and despite the still existing chasm between them, he feels the strong urge to console her. She said goodbye to her mother today, scattered her ashes to be reunited with her father's just as the last will stated, and he's utterly surprised about how deep the impact of all of this is on his own soul.

Charles Scully has been distant from his family for he doesn't know how long. Very long. The last time he had personal contact was when they were mourning another family member, his sister Melissa. She had been shot by a cold-blooded killer and the news had toppled the house of cards he'd been constructing so conscientiously around his family history and his reasons for cutting the ties. He had booked the next available flight out to become one of the mourners. Everyone, including him, was too shocked by how a young woman's flame of life had expired so very suddenly and randomly that nobody, including him, questioned his being there. And now he's in this house once again because of a funeral.

He'd spoken to his mother on the phone seconds before she drew her terminal breath. Bill had called him, informed him that she was in the hospital suffering from a heart attack and that she had asked for him before she had slipped into a coma. He had given him the number to Dana's cell phone and more or less commanded him to give her a call as if Charlie was one of his plebes from the Academy. It was a short, awkward, and one-sided conversation, reminding Charlie of the ones he used to have with his father before he turned his back to his family.

Being on the phone with Dana was different. She sounded so relieved when she realized it was him. Charlie could hear in her voice how desperate she was, how she was overwhelmed by the fear for her mother. She begged him to talk to her, didn’t order him like Bill. When her voice broke in the end, it touched a heartstring he already believed to be numb.

He can't remember what he said to his mother, something about why all of a sudden he was willing to reconnect probably, but he remembers the fuzz he overheard when his voice had obviously really caused her to open her eyes. He heard Dana's sharp intake of breath, he heard a man's voice asking his mother if she knew her name and where she was, he heard his mother say something but couldn't make anything of it. Then he heard Dana calling out to her in panic, the faint sound of the heart monitor indicating a flatline followed by his sister's heartbreaking sobs. Eventually, someone picked up the phone and talked to him. The words he heard only confirmed what he'd already suspected, feared even.

"Hello, Charles, this is Fox Mulder. We haven't met, I'm, uh...I'm a friend of Dana's." "I know who you are, Mr. Mulder." "Oh, okay, well...I'm very sorry but I have to tell you that your mother just passed away. My deepest condolences."

Charlie didn’t reply, he just killed the call without even saying goodbye, and when Dana called a few days later to inform him about the funeral arrangements, he didn’t want to attend at first. He talked himself into believing that he had paid his dues as a son by fulfilling his mother's last wish and that this was it for him, that he was through with his family for good now that both his parents were dead. Three sleepless nights and an earnest conversation with his better half later, he booked a flight to Washington.

And now he's here, in his mother's house, shaking hands with people he's been alienated from for a long time. The only person he feels slightly connected to is his sister who hugged him fiercely instead of clumsily holding out a hand like his brother. She thanked him for having talked to their mother, for having brought her back if even only for a split-second.

Dana's forlornness and grief don't leave Charlie cold, and so he opens the back door and joins her on the bench outside. He gets her attention by leaning to the side and nudging her shoulder. "You and Mulder are back together?" he asks to start the conversation.

"What makes you think we are?" Dana tosses over her shoulder without looking at him.

"He was at the hospital with you when mom died and today he's here, observing your every move like a bodyguard. He looks like he wants to wrap you in cotton wool. I'm surprised, that's all. The last thing I heard was that you'd left him."

His sister turns her head now and looks at him. "Heard from whom? I was under the impression you didn’t care to know anything about us."

"And yet, people have been telling me things."

"People?"

"Old high school friends. Navy acquaintances. Aunt Roberta calls once in while. You remember her? She's our father's half-sister's out-of-wedlock daughter. We met her once at a Scully family reunion out in Portland when we were kids. She was never really accepted as a member of the Scully clan but she has her sources when it comes to what happens in this family."

"Yes, I think I remember her. And she's telling you things about us? What things?"

"For example that Dana and her FBI agent with the funny name broke up."

"I have an FBI agent with a funny name?"

"At least Aunt Roberta thought so." Charlie chuckles when he thinks back to the more than peculiar conversation. He tries to imitate her Southern accent and her slight sigmatism which had amused them already when they were kids. "Charles, honey, have you heard about Dana and this FBI agent of hers? The one with that funny name I can't remember. It was some native flurry four-footed species with a bushy tail and pointed ears." His assumed voice makes Dana laugh and the unexpected joy he managed to bring to her urges him to continue. "She went through the whole list: lynx, coyote, raccoon...jackalope."

On the last one, her head turns slowly toward him and his ever-suspicious sister only needs to cock an eyebrow to make Charlie understand that she is questioning his story.

"Okay, I'm kidding on the jackalope, but I swear she mentioned the other three!"

"I wouldn't have thought, I bet if I browsed through the cabinet long enough I'd find an X-File involving someone named Jackalope," she retorts and her deadpan expression makes Charlie chuckle now.

The amusing twist their conversation has taken helps Charlie cover what he doesn't want to tell his sister about his telephone call with Aunt Roberta. For example, how troubled he was by the news of her failed marriage, partnership, romance, or whatever it was. The family had been discussing the state of her relationship to this man for years. Aunt Roberta once reported a 'friend of a friend' who was with the IRS had seen them file their income tax as a married couple. Those rumors coming from a questionable source were never confirmed and it didn't matter anyway if they were married or not, when a relationship fails it hurts, that much Charlie knew from experience. So when Aunt Roberta told him Dana and her FBI agent had separated, he felt an instant pit in his stomach. He later identified this as a mix of compassion and sympathy. He was sorry for his sister that she suffered from another setback in her life. He also doesn't want to tell Dana how conflicted he was when Aunt Roberta offered her new address, also obtained through rather murky means. He had declined and regretted it later on, because at that moment he had felt that one day, maybe, he would want to reach out for her.

Charlie doesn't fail to see that Dana isn't particularly generous with information about her relationship to Mulder, a trait which isn't new to him. When they were kids, she already hated being interrogated by her family about her teen romances, especially by her mistrustful father and concerned mother, but also by her siblings who, of course, teased her more than they really wanted to know what was going on in her heart.

Charlie wants to assert her now that they don't have to talk about Mulder if she doesn't want to, but then she picks up his initial question on her own accord and clarifies, "we didn't break up, at least not with finality. I moved out of our house about a year ago, but it was meant to be only a temporary separation. Mulder needed space to....ugh, well, it's too complicated to explain. We're both back at the FBI and have gotten closer again working alongside each other. Besides, he's still my best friend. I don't know how I would be able to survive all this without him."

"You call him by his last name too."

"I do."

He's heard the man his entire family has been gossiping about for years call his sister 'Scully' today a few times and at first, it bothered him a bit. Calling someone by their last name usually was a put-down, a means to create a distance. But the way he says it doesn't sound rude by any means, rather gentle, more like a term of endearment. And now he's just heard Dana call this man 'Mulder' for the first time as she hasn't spoken much during the service, and it also sounds so affectionate.

"A very special relationship you have there."

"Yeah," Dana huffs, "as if you knew anything about it."

"For someone to follow a convicted murderer underground, I'd say the relationship has to be very special. He's your son's father, I assume."

Her pinched mouth clearly indicates he's reached the limit now of what she's willing to share of her love life, and she doesn't hesitate to verbalize it either. "I don't want to talk about it. Besides, it's none of your business."

"Sure. Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. It's just good to know that you have someone who looks after you."

Dana's head whirls around to look at him so fast, he fears it might give her a whiplash. Her steel blue eyes pierce through him and an ice-cold draft wafts off of her. It gives Charlie an idea that what she's going to say won't be very pleasant for him to hear and the sharp undertone she spits the words out with strengthens the impression.

"Is it, Charlie? You worry about me all of a sudden? I haven't heard from you or seen you in ages. You didn’t care if someone looked after me after my abduction, when I had barely survived a gunshot wound to the abdomen, when I buried Mulder, or when I had my baby, your nephew. You didn't even care when I was dying of cancer."

There's going to be no warming up, he realizes with a start. No getting reacquainted first after so many years of separation, no holding back, no fence time. She throws the accusations right at him and every word feels like a slap across his face.

"I cared," he replies flatly, a bit shocked by the list of terrible things that happened to her. He's heard about all of them. Sometimes only years later, but he knows that she's been at death's door too many times in the line of duty, he knows he once had a nephew called William, and he's heard a lot about one Fox Mulder playing a decisive role in almost everything. He also was in the loop when she was ill with terminal brain cancer. His mother had told him, had left a message on his answering machine pleading with him to visit his sister at the hospital. It was the time she still tried to bring the lost sheep back to the herd. It was only after the umpteenth message he'd left unanswered that she gave up and left him alone. Probably to save herself from more hurting. Even a mother can only take so much rejection.

"Why didn’t you come to the hospital? I was waiting for you, Charlie! Day after day after day, I told myself that tomorrow you'd show up with a good explanation why you hadn't been able to make it earlier, until one day I realized you deliberately stayed away. I can't say it didn't make me sad."

"It would've been a sorrowful cause for a family reunion."

It's the only explanation he can think of this quickly, fully aware that it's a lame excuse. It's a pretext he tries to hide the real motives behind. It's not going to help him out of the confrontation lurking right in front of him, he figures. He sees the determination in his sister's eyes to get to the bottom of the matter and the bundle of questions she's been waiting so many years to ask him.

"I was dying, Charlie. It was your last chance to ever see me alive. Didn't this have any effect on you?"

"You didn't die."

Another useless remark. The fact that she didn't die doesn't lessen his wrongdoing in the slightest.

"No, I didn't, but nobody was able to foresee that at the time. My body was weeks away from shutting down, maybe only days."

He has nothing to say to this. Not even some senseless, placatory words. He's getting more and more uncomfortable. His pulse rate must have risen significantly, the lump in his throat is growing, and the air around him feels sticky. Beads of sweat start forming on his forehead, although the temperature is moderate and a light breeze is blowing in his face.

"Don't you have anything to say? Any explanation, any excuse?"

"There is no excuse," he admits meekly to his sister and actually the first time to himself, he realizes. Deep down at the bottom of his heart, he knew he was making a terrible, irrevocable mistake, but he never had the guts to concede this fact to himself.

"You're damn right there isn't! I don't get it, Charlie, your surviving sister being at death's door wouldn't bring you to put aside the family dispute for just once? Huh? Didn't it matter just a tiny little bit that I was diagnosed with a terminal illness?"

He sees the hurt in her eyes, the wound he caused that has never healed completely and still oozes.

How is he to make her understand that both Ahab's and Melissa's sudden deaths had paralyzed him? He felt strong and invincible having dissociated himself officially from his family, a family whose paternal structures of command and obey had suffocated him. But when his father had died unexpectedly from a heart attack, he felt deprived of the possibility to ever set things right. The family he had left was never going to be the same with its head being gone, the person Charlie had rubbed against the most. There seemed to be no way back to where he once had been. There had been no doubt that Bill would take over, moving upwards in the chain of command from being someone receiving orders to giving them. The friction that had existed between his older brother and himself would increase tenfold with their father gone, of that Charlie had been sure. And things got even more complicated for him when with Melissa another pillar of the family structure was eliminated without a warning. His place in the remaining mesh of relations was evermore undefined and Charles Nevin Scully, youngest branch of the pedigree, departed more and more from his family, even from the ones he never had a reason to be at odds with other than that they belonged to that particular family: his mother and living sister.

Charlie's sinister flashbacks leave him silent which leads Dana to voice her very own interpretation. Misinterpretation, that is. What else?

"You were of the same opinion as our older brother, weren't you? That it was all my fault. That only I was to blame for everything that happened to me because it had been my choice to join the FBI. A choice which killed our sister."

"Bill said that to you?"

"Yes."

"When you were in the hospital?"

"Yes."

"What an asshole!"

Dana narrows her eyes and furrows her brows. "That wasn't what you thought of me?" she asks, surprise evident in her voice.

"No. Never."

"Then I understand even less why you completely ignored my being ill. If a hospital bedside visit was too much to ask for, why didn't you call or at least write a few lines? Something. Anything. I was longing for a sign that you cared about me, Charlie."

He would like to tell her that he cared. He cared so much that he called the hospital every day to ask how she was doing. He had been able to convince a nurse that he was a family member authorized to get next of kin information. Her name was Estelle, and she reported to him every up and down of the course of his sister's illness. How she battled her way through the aggressive treatment, how the hopes everyone had pinned on chemo and radiation were disappointed, how she became a little less every day. He knew of the mysterious chip Dana's FBI partner had come up with even before his mother and brother heard about it. The last time he spoke with Estelle was when she called him the day the cancer had gone into remission to tell him about his sister's miracle cure. He cried when he put the receiver back into the cradle. A few days later, Dana was discharged and Estelle received a huge bouquet of flowers.

Why he can't tell his sister this, Charlie doesn't know. Instead, he gives her some other reason, one that is equally true though. "What good would it have done to rekindle, Dana? Tell me. Why get close to someone you're going to lose again?"

Her eyes wide and gasping for breath like a fish out of water, her indignant reply isn't long in coming. "Pardon, I'm not sure I got this right. Are you saying it wasn't any use? That it wasn't worth the effort because I would be gone soon after anyhow?"

Tears flood her incredulous eyes and Charlie hates how he is making things worse instead of better.

"No, that's not exactly what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Charlie? I don't understand a word you're saying. I never really understood why we were estranged in the first place."

"We," he fidgets with his hand between them, "were never estranged, Danes."

"No? Then how come you didn't get on a plane and pay me a sick visit as long as you still could?"

Maybe it's time to finally be honest, his mind supplies, to finally explain his state of mind at the time. If it only wasn't so damn difficult to pour his heart out to someone he had taught himself to cut out of his life. But she is his sister, and back in the days as kids, they were like two peas in a pod. The two youngest Scullys were inseparable and always attached to one another. He owes her an explanation, she deserves to understand why his behavior as an adult differed so much from when he was a child.

He musters all his courage and clears his throat, then starts to explain, his powerless voice revealing how hard it is for him to speak the words. "I had already lost one sister, I wasn't ready to lose another. It had been hard for me not to be able to say goodbye to Melissa, but to watch you die, Dana, simply seemed impossible for me to handle. I thought that if I pretended that the family drama didn’t have anything to do with me, it would be easier for me to cope with the inevitable, which would be the...the, uhm..."

"My death," Dana supplies unmoved.

"The loss of my second sister."

It doesn't take her long to understand the essence of his profession. "So you're saying you ignored my medical condition to protect you from the pain my passing would eventually inflict on you."

"I know that was selfish of me."

"It was. Very selfish. Incredibly selfish." She hesitates a moment until she goes on, probably because it takes her a moment to grasp the whole concept, something that took him years to accept, and he sees it coming, she won't spare him his shortcoming. "All you saw was your loss and how you would have to deal with it. The situation I had to fight with at that very moment didn't even exist in your imagination. Do you want to know what I had to deal with, Charlie?" She doesn't wait for him to answer. "There was no hope for a cure but I underwent treatment anyway just to buy myself a bit of time. Chemotherapy made me vomit my insides out, radiation gave me gum sores and made it difficult for me to swallow. I suffered from constant fatigue and lost so much weight they gave me nutritional IVs so I wouldn't die from malnutrition. I was terrified, Charlie, I didn't want to die. I was too young to die, and I didn't deserve to die. I was so scared. I could've used you to help me through this, little brother."

Scanning his face, her eyes tell him how hard her struggle was, how it had taken every bit of strength she had within her tiny body. Charlie feels the same horror as all those years back when Estelle gave him the minutae medical reports of her ordeal, and he's employing the same whitewashing technique to justify his failure as a brother, only it was much easier back then to convince himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong than it is today.

"You had people taking care of you much better than I would've been able to. You had mom and Bill. Your partner."

He had heard from Estelle that there was an FBI agent who moved heaven and hell to be allowed to sit at his sister's bedside outside visiting hours, that he spent the nights either holding Dana's hand or in her bed spooning against her. Estelle had never witnessed so much compassion from a patient's work colleague before. Charlie didn’t have to be a psychic to be able to conclude that this man had to be the infamous Fox Mulder, of whom his mother had spoken so dearly during Dana's abduction, but his brother had called a joke figure unworthy of being in law enforcement.

"Mom's sad face only reminded me of how much fear and worry I had caused her since the day I joined the FBI. She tried to hide her tears from me, but there were days her eyes were so red and puffy, I knew she'd been crying until she stepped into my room. I was grateful to her for her love and care but sometimes the way she clung to me made it difficult. Mulder also tried to put on a show for me and acted as if there was nothing to worry about, but I knew him too well not to see the underlying fear. I noticed how he tried to keep a calm face as long as he was in my room but deep inside struggled with the idea of going on without me. I wanted a pledge from him that he would continue our work but he refused to even talk about it. He tried to keep from me that he was searching for a cure, breaking every FBI rule there was, but I looked right through him. He reminded me of a duck that floated serenely on the water but paddled frantically underneath. There were days I worried more about him than about myself. And Bill, well...you know him, he's not really good at displaying his soft, compassionate side, although he has one. When he said he wanted to come to terms with me, he just did not go so far as to add 'as long as you're still here'. He's never forgiven me my decision to join the Bureau. He's been more unforgiving in this than dad ever was. Mom told me that Ahab had eventually accepted my choice before he died."

Charlie isn't so sure about it. Their father could be very stubborn and unrelenting. He himself had been at the receiving end of the paternal pressure, they all had. Their mother had always been the balancing force and of course, she wanted Dana to believe that her beloved father had finally made his peace with her career choice. That Bill had taken over Ahab's role as her stern critic also fit into the mold of how he pictured the family dynamics from the distance he had been keeping so eagerly.

"I don't understand it, Charlie, we'd always been so close. I loved how you lived for the moment, how you looked at your life so differently from how I did. You were always so carefree and confident. I could've used your optimistic attitude to cheer me up, your inappropriate jokes to lift my spirits, your positive thinking to assure me that everything was going to be fine. I badly needed someone to distract me, to take me away from all these people with their worried faces and sinister forebodings."

He doubts he could've been this someone for her, given the worry and sinister forebodings he was hatching inside himself at the time, but he would never admit it. He's already told her so much more than he ever thought he would. There was something else though he needs her to understand.

"Danes, I may have been a selfish bastard...correction, I was a selfish bastard...but there's one thing you have to believe. There never was a time I did not care about you. You've always been my favorite sibling. I mean, Bill and I never had a lot in common. Being so much older than me, he always thought he could boss me around when dad was away. Melissa was fun and easy-going but too occupied with herself to pay a lot of attention to her baby brother. You, Dana, you were the only one who looked after me. Do you remember how you once intimidated some boys who bullied me in school?"

Dana shakes her head in disbelief as if his well-meant words don't make any sense to her, probably because they contradict his behavior during these past years, but he needs her to understand that he's always loved her dearly. The distance he put between them has only been physical, never emotional. The happy childhood they had shared wouldn't let him dissociate completely from his sister, even if he had tried.

"They were taller than me, and a lot taller than you, but you put your hands on your hips and told them to leave me alone if they didn't want you to give them a lesson of a girl's secret combat strategies. Your flaming red curls and fiery eyes put them to rout alright. You were my heroine then, today, and always."

"Your heroine?"

"Yes, my heroine. Geez, you never avoided a confrontation, never abandoned your beliefs. You were the only one of us who dared to argue with dad, and I adored you for that. Not even our older brother would've had the guts to do what you have done: choose a career against our father's explicit will. I asked myself if the Navy really was Bill's first choice or only dad's. You were the tiniest of us four but also the strongest and most courageous."

"Overpraise."

"Oh no, not at all. I couldn't have wished for a better big sister."

Charlie watches her with silent scrutiny and when his eyes find hers, a little smile sneaks from the edge of Dana's lips. Her voice becomes softer with every sentence of the childhood memory that leaves her lips.

"I was so happy when mom and dad told us we would have another brother or sister. I'd always wanted to be a big sister like Melissa. Mom told me years later that she had two miscarriages after me and didn't dare to try for a fourth child for quite a while. That's why the gap between you and me is somewhat larger than between us other three. When you were born and dad took us to the hospital to visit you and mom, I was allowed to hold you although I was the youngest. I remember that dad said it was Bill's right as the firstborn but mom insisted I should hold you, and of course, Bill didn't mind. He had his hands in his pockets the whole time to keep anyone from placing the fidgeting baby in his arms. Melissa was too occupied with the current book she was reading to bestow as much as a glance on you, so I held you the entire time. You looked at me with wide eyes, then fell asleep in my arms. Mom said that you'd been crying all day, that she'd thought you were never going to stop, and that from now on she would call me to help her soothe you whenever you were upset. I almost burst out of pride. I had fallen in love with my baby brother at that very moment and I felt that nothing and no one would ever come between me and him...until I was lying in a hospital bed, sick and scared, yearning for my brother to hold me for a change. And he didn't show up."

The way her voice breaks at the end is stealing Charlie's breath. "God, Dana," he groans. His stomach churns and he feels like he is being stabbed in the heart. It's not easy to be told so plainly how wrong he had been.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's alright. I deserve every word of it."

"Maybe, maybe not. I mean, I guess you had your reasons to distance yourself from the family. Seriously, how many fights did you have with dad about scholastic merits, majors, and fields of study? About the so-called serious sides of life?"

"He wanted me to become a second Bill Jr., one more son he could push into the Navy to follow his footsteps. Why did he never argue with Melissa like that? She wasn't exactly an industrious, determined student either, was she? When she told him she was going to move into this esoteric commune to learn how to free her spirit from the shackles of the performance society he only shook his head, shrugged and continued reading the paper. I didn’t get it. If it had been me, he would've given me an hour-long lecture."

Dana has to chuckle now. "She was a girl, Charlie. Dad probably thought she'd get married one day and left it to the future husband to put up with those silly ideas of hers."

"And he had you, of course. Bright, ambitious, A-student Dana at the onset of a career in either science or medicine. You raised the bar to unreachable heights for us ordinary mortals."

"That was never my intention. I just loved to study and I found joy in being the best possible in everything I did. I still do actually. Mulder can tell you a thing or two about it."

"I knew you didn't become daddy's pet on purpose, but you were, and at a certain point there just was no valid place for me to settle myself in. Bill was his golden Navy boy, you were the brainiac, Melissa had already taken the role of the black sheep, so what was I going to be?"

"Is that why you went away?"

"I couldn't do anything right by him, he was always on the lookout for mistakes he could blame me for. Mom always tried to make up for it but let's face it, dad wore the pants in that marriage. One day I realized I was happy and satisfied as long as he was away. The nearer his homecoming, the more uncomfortable I got. The family was thrilled about his return, whereas I dreaded it, and when you cried when he left us again, I had to feign being sad. At a certain point, it had become so obvious for me that I was an outsider in this family that I decided I would move out as soon as possible."

"And so you did," Dana states.

So he did. On the morning of his 18th birthday, he let his mother and siblings know over the birthday breakfast they had set up for him that he was going to move in with a friend. His father was at sea, luckily. Charlie wouldn't have had the guts to go through with it probably if Ahab had been sitting at the table with them. His mother was utterly aghast, his brother ridiculed him, the older of his two sisters babbled something about how one must pursue the path being offered, the younger cried, pleading with him to stay.

"Please believe me when I tell you that it wasn't you personally I needed to get away from, it was this family dynamic I couldn't cope with any longer."

"A dynamic I was a part of."

"Yeah," he sighs, "you were. It wasn't easy for me, especially in the beginning, but I needed a complete cut. It wouldn't have worked any other way for me."

"I hear you using 'I' and 'me' a lot, Charlie. Have you ever wasted a single thought about what your leaving did to us? Mom especially?"

He had. He thought a lot about his mother and it felt terrible to turn her down in her persistent attempts to reestablish contact. He can't explain what made him react to this last effort of hers. Maybe he'd realized that even if it was too late for him to reconcile with his mother, he didn't want to lose a third family member without even saying goodbye. Fate had been so courteous to him as to give him a second chance with Dana, it didn't offer him a second one with his mother, but at least he got to show her he still cared about her before she died.

"I did think of her, more than I would want, but, well...it's just that you can't make an omelet without breaking the eggs."

Dana cocks an eyebrow, a gesture Charlie is familiar with since early childhood. "Weird analogy here," she snorts. "It means you accepted you hurt her, I guess. "

"I'm afraid I have to say yes."

Dana presses her lips into a sharp line and nods slightly, processing his painfully honest words. "Well, thank you for taking the time to ease her heart at her last moments on earth." If she tried to prevent sounding sarcastic, she's not succeeding.

"Even at the risk of you not believing this, I'm glad I did. She was my mother, I owed it to her. I, uh...I did love her."

He's rendered his sister speechless for a moment with these last words. A tear escapes her eye when she finally says, "I believe you, I only wished she would've had more time with you."

Charlie swallows hard. His voice is small when he replies, "I'm sorry, Dana, I know I should've come back earlier. I should've been there for you, and for mom, when you needed me."

"You're here today, Charlie, and that's all that matters now."

They turn toward each other and after a moment of hesitance they hug, long and tight.

"Mmmm," Dana hums and the sound vibrates comfortably in Charlie's ear, "I'm so glad to have you back, little brother."

"It's good to be back, sis."

"You won't hide anymore?"

"No. I promise."

After a moment of significant silence they spend with Dana clutching Charlie as if her life depended on it, he breaks the embrace. To his dismay, the moment he lets go of her, his sister collapses. Her shoulders start trembling and when her chin falls to her chest, he hears the first sob escape her throat. He looks at her, not knowing exactly what she is crying about. She has so many reasons to cry. There were so many losses in her life she had to deal with, starting with a brother who vanished from her life without leaving a trace. Guilt crawls up his spine for having left her in the lurch for so long. He places himself right next to her, their thighs touching, and puts an arm around her shoulder. She instantly falls into him and the dam breaks. Her body is shaking from heavy sobs and soon Charlie feels his shirt getting wet from her tears. It's as if she's bottled up her sadness for too long that it now gushes out of her unchecked.

It takes Dana several minutes to recompose herself, minutes in which she's being rocked and comforted by her long-lost brother until the sobbing subsides eventually. She disentangles herself from him, pulls a tissue out of her pocket and blows her nose. Looking at him with red and blurry eyes, she manages a weak smile when she says, "seems you've returned the favor now."

"What favor?"

"To hold me until I stopped crying like I did when you were a newborn."

Charlie can't keep the sour chuckle down which is climbing up his throat. "Superb, it only took me 46 years. Well done, dude!"

Now Dana chuckles too, but hers is full of relief, not reproach. "Better late than never."

The sudden realization strikes him hard. How he wishes now that he'd been her rock also back then. Hell, how often had she stood up for him when their father had told him off, justifiably or not? How often had she covered for him, both in school and at home? She'd helped him out of more than one predicament, and he had only taken, taken, taken. He'd taken his unselfish, giving sister for granted and he'd never given her anything in return but his outright admiration and brotherly affection. As a kid, it had probably been all that could've expected from him, but as an adult in his mid-twenties, he should've had the decency and morality to swallow his personal sensitivities and shove his pitiful ass all the way from Fresno to her bedside in Washington to hold her hand.

"I'm so glad you got cured, Dana. I would've never been able to forgive myself."

In his state of harsh self-flagellation, Charlie fails to recognize that Dana's mood has already shifted from reproach to reconciliation. If he wasn't so self-centered once again, he would be able to read it in her face, in her open look and appeasing smile. She lays her hand on his forearm and squeezes it gently.

"Let's not talk about it anymore, Charlie. The cancer is gone, I'm fine. I've been cancer-free for years. We have all the time in the world to make up for the past years."

"What? That simple? You're forgiving me just like that as if I'm belatedly returning a book I borrowed from you? I failed you in the moment of your worst distress and you're saying 'let's forget it'?"

"If I learned anything during my illness, it has to be that it's no use trying to redo what's past. The past can't be changed, only the present and future. When I was still in the belief that my remaining days were numbered, I struggled with what I had missed doing in my past and it was hard to accept that there were some things I would never be able to catch up with. Then a miracle happened and I got cured. I was given a second chance and I swore to myself I wouldn't waste it with regretting the mistakes I'd made in the past."

"You got cured thanks to a...erm, somewhat alternative approach, so I heard."

Dana's hand goes to her neck, her fingertips reaching for the spot where an implant had first been taken out and later on another one put in. He heard the whole story.

"Mulder's chip, well...it certainly led to some discussion with mom and Bill. They thought I was being crazy to even try it, but I had nothing to lose. And I trusted Mulder."

"Are you still carrying it?"

"Yes, I am. It seems to have kept me in remission ever since."

"That's wonderful, Danes. How did Mulder know it would work?"

"He didn't, but he is a believer. And he taught me to believe."

"What a great partnership. How long have you been together now?"

"More than 20 years."

"Wow."

"Yeah, it's quite a time span. What kind of life are you living, Charlie? Do you have a significant other? Are you married?"

"Divorced. Twice."

"Children? Any nephews or nieces I don't know of?"

"No children, no. At least no biological ones. Carrie, my second wife, has two boys, and we get along pretty well. Once in a while, I take them to a football game or out for burgers. They're cool kids, but it seems I'm not made to be a family man. I'm not good at playing house. I definitely won't marry again. I'm living with someone though. Haley. She's 32, a free spirit, artist. She reminds me of Melissa at times. She's very open when it comes to addressing my flaws," he adds with a grin. "She's good for me."

"Sounds wonderful. It's good not to be alone."

"What about Mulder and you?"

"We're not living together at the moment."

"You already said that, but will you again? One day?"

"Maybe," she says, and with a little more emphasis, "probably."

"He seems like a good person. Quite different from what I've been told by Bill."

"How come Bill talked to you about Mulder?"

"Well, you're not going to like it, but uhm...he wanted me to help bring you to your senses. Back in the day. I think by now, he's given up on the endeavor to eliminate him from your life."

"Bill and Mulder have never really connected. Bill blamed him for dragging me into this dark world of his, into his quest of finding the truth. He completely neglected the fact that I was a grown woman who made her own choice when I decided to follow him. One day, his quest had become mine."

"And you had fallen in love," Charlie points out.

"It's a very long and very complicated story but yes, somewhere along the road we fell in love with each other. I think neither of us can pinpoint the exact moment when it happened, one day we simply found ourselves being in love. When you've found your perfect other, you don't let them walk out of your life just like that, even though not everything is always perfect."

"I like him."

"You do?"

"Yes, he seems kind and decent, and absolutely devoted to you. He guards you like a mother bear."

"He's always been very protective of me, unlike what Bill thinks."

"He was in the hospital with you. When mom died."

"He was. I received Bill's call at a crime scene and Mulder sent me to go see mom right away, saying he'd cover for me. He came to the hospital later. He knew I needed him. Apart from that, he liked mom and was worried about her. She liked him too. She liked him a lot. Her last words were to him. I guess she said them to both of us, but she was reaching out for Mulder and looked him in the eye when she said what she said."

"That she also had a son named William."

"Her last thoughts were of the two people that were lost to her - William and you. She loved you, Charlie, despite everything, and she needed to know you were alright before she was ready to go. As a mother, she never gave up on her child."

He's surprised about the warm feeling spreading inside. Maybe as a son, he also never gave up on his mother. Maybe even if the umbilical cord is cut there's an invisible bond between a mother and her child that never ceases to exist. He thought he had burnt all bridges behind him but that obviously wasn't true. He's glad he made that last phone call and talked to his mother. It not only gave her peace but also him. He missed the chance to make full amends with her, but maybe she'd known what their last-minute reconciliation would do for him. A mother always knows what's best for her child.

"But why did she tell you she also had a son named William? She should've known you were aware you had a brother with that name. It seems a little peculiar to me."

"I don’t think that was what she was trying to remind us of."

"Of what then?"

"That we, Mulder and I, have a son named William too."

"Huh? She thought you forgot that?"

"No. She knew we missed him every day of our lives. She wanted to tell us to never give up hope, to keep believing that we will reunite with him one day, just like she had reunited with you after so many years of separation."

"Well, reunited is probably too big a word. I spoke two sentences to her. She didn't even answer."

"She felt the connection re-established, Charlie. Your two sentences pulled her out of the coma. The fact that her prayer for you had been answered, that you had come, even if only through the speaker phone, gave her peace, and she wanted the same peace for us."

"Awesome. I never would've thought."

"It took me a while to figure it out myself. At first, I was confused and even a bit angry at her. I asked myself why she had to remind us of the child we had lost. What was the use of hurting us? Only days later I understood what she was trying to tell us."

"To look for him?"

"To always feel responsible for him. We are his parents, even though he's not living with us. Mulder and I created this life, and for as long as we live, our obligation is to assure he's safe and happy. If it means we have to stay away from him, so be it, that's what we have done the past 15 years, but maybe the day will come when we can dare to contact him. She told us to never stop hoping for this to finally happen."

"With saying she also had a son name William she put herself in your shoes."

"She acknowledged my motherhood, something I've had difficulties with since I gave him up. She always saw the mother in me, never the woman who gave her son away. I can't tell you what this means to me. Especially because she disapproved of my decision to give him up for adoption, and very strongly so. She loved William and didn't want to lose her grandson. I've been told many times by people who didn't know better that I would understand a certain situation better if only I was a mother. Working at the children's ward does that to you, it puts you in a situation where you have to talk to parents making tough choices for their sons and daughters. The choices I made for my children-"

Dana stops mid-sentence, takes a deep breath and bites her lower lip for a moment, then turns toward her brother. "Do you know that I had a daughter? A beautiful girl. Emily. Begotten with my ova, carried and given birth to by another woman."

Charlie nods. He has never fully understood the whole story of that girl's existence, but his mother, God bless her, had written him a letter back then giving him the news of how her first grandchild had entered her life so miraculously and then left it again within the blink of an eye. The letter even contained a picture of a little girl that looked so much like his sister it had taken his breath away, but he had been in a phase where a lot of things were going on in his own life, so he had never really allowed this story to get at him.

Dana's eyes become unfocused and she looks beyond her brother to an image only she can see. Charlie is aware that she hides the full depth of her pain. To her questioning look as how he'd come to the knowledge of that other child of hers, he only answers taciturnly "mom". A fleeting smile crosses Dana's face at the mentioning of her mother, then she takes on from where she left a moment ago. "I didn't know Emily existed until she was three years old. She was so terribly sick when I found her. There was no hope for a cure, and I decided to accompany her on her way of death instead of prolonging her suffering just to have her with me a little while longer." The last sentences come out in a staccato without drawing a single breath in between them as if this was the only way for her to be able to do it.

"Jesus, Dana, there's been so much suffering in your life, so much pain and loss."

His sister heaves a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, it seems that my adult life has been one long master class in death beginning with my choice to go into forensic pathology. Fate would've had it that I not only studied death but gathered a lot of personal experience to add to the scientific approach. God, there are so many deaths, one after another, it's almost difficult to put them in a chronological order." She squints her eyes for a second, then starts the morbid list. "Dad, Mulder's father, Melissa, Emily, Mulder's mother, Samantha, Mulder, the Gunmen, and almost myself now and then. Now I have to add mom to the list."

Some names don't make sense to Charlie, like Samantha and the Gunmen, and he asks himself how Mulder made it onto the list, but he won't dwell on it. There's no use in deepening the cuts in her heart. His sister is a textbook definition of a strong person but where is her breaking point? When would all this death be too much for her to take?

"Well, anyway," she shakes her head as if to push the thoughts about death out of her mind, "what I wanted to say was that the choices I made for my children left me at a point where I wasn't seeing myself as a mother anymore. All I felt I was, was being the biological origin of two human beings who lived, or had lived, their lives far away from me with other women raising them. Mom never saw it that way. Every Mother's Day she sent me two white lilies and a card, thanking me for the two grandchildren I gave her. In her eyes, I never ceased being a mother, and I'm so grateful she reminded me of it before she left us."

As a man, not even a father, Charlie can only try to imagine what it was like for his sister to lose two children, and, to make matters worse, under such unfortunate circumstances beyond her control. From the way she so fondly speaks of her emotions connected to her motherhood, he feels safe enough to ask her a question that has been on his mind for a while.

"How was he? My nephew?"

Dana's self-containment is gone for a moment. She sucks in her breath deeply through her nose while her eyes slide closed. Charlie already fears he's gone too far, but then a slight smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. When she opens her eyes, they are filled with tears, but they don't seem to be sad, rather dreamy.

"How was he? Let's see. Hmmm, he was such an easy baby. He didn't cry a lot, he was happy and satisfied most of the time. As difficult as the pregnancy and childbirth were, it didn't have any negative influence on him. He smiled mostly, ate and slept well. He would look at you with his big, curious eyes and melt your heart. He was a godsend for a first-time mother."

"Did he look a lot like you? Like a Scully? Bill's kids all looked so much like him when they were babies, I almost pitied them," Charlie deadpans.

"It's what nature intends. Fathers don't share a mother's certainty that a baby is theirs, so newborns resemble their fathers early on to assure men they invest their resources in their own offspring."

"So he resembled Mulder more than you?"

He can't stop himself from asking the trick question. So far, she has spoken of her partner's fatherhood only in casual half-sentences and Charlie wonders why. At this point, he's certain that no one else can be her son's father but Fox Mulder.

"Well, he had blue eyes like most babies have and only peach hair when he was born, but whenever I looked at his face I saw Mulder, especially after he had to leave us. William was all I had at a time I didn't even know if Mulder still lived." Leading her yet again to a sad chapter of her life story hadn't been his intention but she seems unfazed and Charlie doesn't even have to voice another question for her to continue and eventually answer his question. "When I picture him now, I see a mixture of the both of us: a lanky teenage boy with Mulder's brown unruly hair and my blue eyes. I hope he's been spared the red hair, I remember how Bill and you wrestled with the color of your hair as kids. And you're dying it now, I see." She rakes her fingers through her brother's hair with an amused smile on her face.

"I've tried more or less every single color, I can tell you as much. It was green for quite a while," he quips.

The information makes her laugh. It's a wholehearted laughter, taking a bit off the edges of their sad conversation. "Well, you were far away enough from home to be allowed to experiment. Imagine Bill with green hair. Dad would've been mad as hell."

Charlie joins in her laughter and they both can't hold it, they laugh until the tears stream down their cheeks. It's a good laughter which puts an end to the heavy talk and lets them both cherish their togetherness. This is how it used to be between them when they were kids, light and easy.

Dana and Charlie are both so absorbed that they startle when the back door opens with a creak and Mulder pops his head out.

"Sorry to interrupt but there's an Aunt Roberta on the phone who wants to pass on her condolences to you, Scully. She says she's a distant relative, the second daughter of your father's cousin or something like that. She asked me if I was the FBI agent with the funny name. What am I supposed to make of that?" Dana and Charlie look at each other and burst into hysterical laughter, much to Mulder's bewilderment. "Well, I'm glad to see you're having fun," he growls with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Sorry for that, Foxxx," Charlie says, stretching his name for emphasis and gritting his teeth at the same time in order to keep himself from laughing. He gets up and puts a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "I'll talk to her."

After Charlie has vanished into the house, Mulder takes the now empty spot next to his partner and mumbles under his breath, "agent with the funny name...moi?"

She also tries to suppress a grin but is only half successful. "There's obviously been some talking about us within my family and Aunt Roberta has been adding her own anecdotal details to the stories."

"Anecdotal details, I see. Well, as long as she calls me funny and not spooky, I shouldn't complain."

"I never thought you were spooky, Mulder."

"Not even when we first met and I showed you the slides to our first case?"

"No."

"I can't quite believe that, Scully. Everybody thought I was spooky."

"First of all, I'm not everybody...." Mulder smiles consentingly, "second, I thought you were nuts when we first met."

"Ouch." Mulder's face contorts in feigned hurt for a second before he shoots back, "and I thought you'd last a week maximum. I guess we've both changed our minds."

"Who said I have?" she deadpans.

"Funny. Very funny, Scully." Mulder's face is empty now, whereas Dana's lightens up upon their banter.

Inside the house, Charlie isn't listening very closely to what Aunt Roberta is saying. He tries to follow the interaction outside on the porch and strains his ears to get at least some of the conversation. Casually, he tells her now, "stop calling him that, Aunt Roberta. His name is Fox, and forget what you've been told about him, he's a good person." It only takes his aunt, who's probably a second or third cousin or actually not a real relative at all, a brief moment to process this new information before she showers Charlie with more questions he chooses to ignore. His attention is again directed outside when he hears Dana and Mulder resume their conversation after a few moments of silence. He takes the receiver away from his ear to be able to follow what's being said outside.

"Did you two have a good conversation?" Mulder asks

"Hmm, yes, we did. A long overdue conversation, but a good one. I lost my mother, but I got my brother back."

Charlie's heart swells.

"That's good, Scully. I'm happy for you. He seems like a nice guy."

"He said the same about you."

"Seriously? Should there really exist a male Scully on this planet who doesn't hate me?"

Instead of commenting, Dana places a gentle kiss on Mulder's cheek. It elicits a delighted smile from the man who in Charlie's head had been an ego-driven, reckless, unhinged sorry son of a bitch destroying his sister's career in his stubborn pursuit to find little green men until he was able to form a view of his own on the infamous Fox Mulder meeting him personally today for the first time.

"What was that for?" Mulder asks, obviously surprised by Dana's gesture of affection.

"For helping me through this, Mulder. For being my friend."

"Anytime, Scully."

"Yes, I know. That's what I mean."

Charlie watches his sister lean into her partner, and he can see that he is so much more than just an FBI partner - with or without a funny name. She puts her head on his shoulder and he pulls her closer with one of his long arms. What a cute couple, Charlie thinks. This is how she's been able to survive all this, with Mulder at her side. That she'd been taken care of by this man while he had been absent from her life makes it a little easier for Charlie to come to terms with what he'd done wrong. He smiles and puts his ear back to the receiver, his eyes still locked on the display of human compassion and love outside.

"Pardon, Aunt Roberta? The connection is a little wonky. What did you just say?"

He listens to her babbling some more and doesn't deem it worthy to interrupt her flood of words, but then she asks him something meaningful and he's happy to give her an honest answer.

"Yes, it definitely was the right decision to come back."

#dana scully #charles scully #fox mulder

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